After the Fall
by LolitaRed
Summary: Chapter Eleven update! An overweight young girl discovers she's a mutant and is enrolled at the Institute.
1. Through Air and Water

Hi, guys. I've just decided to revise these first chapters. Don't worry. I'm still writing chapter seven. The changes won't be big. I'm just taking out anything that sounds to Sue or doesn't really help the story move on. Hope you like the changes. Next chap will probably be posted sometime next week. On with the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution at all, they belong to Marvel and Warner Brothers. I'm making no money off of this. I only own my original characters and story. Do not sue.

About the Fic: This is set sometime after 'Joyride', and the timeline is somewhere in early July. I'm going to try to stick to the original storyline in the series but I probably will end up turning this into an AU (since me even putting in a new character is AU) so please don't hate me if events that happen in the series don't happen in this fic. Enjoy! ;)

After the Fall: Chapter One, "Though Air and Water".

By: LolitaRed.

Rated: PG-13, for brief cursing.

"This is your captain speaking." said a monotone voice over the intercom. " If you'd please look out your windows for a moment, we are starting to pass over the great Lake Michigan, which means we'll be in Milwaukee in about forty-five minutes. Thank you for choosing SilverBird Airlines. I'm Captain Thomas, over and out."

Bethany Bancroft looked out of the small circular window down at the cerulean blue waters peeking from behind the wispy clouds. 'We're almost there. I wonder if Gran will be waiting for us at the airport?' she thought, 'I hope not.'

Beth brushed a lock of dirty, black hair out of her face and stared out with her brown eyes. She was a short, overweight, fourteen-year-old girl from a small town in Kentucky. Her brown skin stood out against her white tank-top, and her big arms jiggled in the turbulence. She wore a pair of torn jeans, and the laces on her hiking boots were left untied.

"Mom, why does Gran fly us out here every summer?" she asked, looking over at the woman sitting next to her.

"I don't know, hun." said the woman, thumbing through her magazine, her ebony eyes darting from side to side as she read a recipe for nutmeg cookies. "I guess she thinks she has to check up on you, or something."

Zelda Cortez Bancroft was a short, thin, Hispanic woman. She wore a royal blue blouse and a short blue skirt. Her shiny black hair was in a messy bun, and the make-up on her thin bird-like face was perfect. She looked like she had just walked off a photo-shoot.

"Why does she care?" Beth asked, one bushy eyebrow raised skeptically. "I hate that bitch and she hates me."

"Bethany! Don't talk like that!" said Mom, her hair falling out of her bun and into her smoldering gaze. "I don't know where you get that language from."

"I get it from you." said Beth in an undertone, crossing her arms under her chest.

She had watched her mother cuss out a cab driver this morning for almost making them miss their flight.

"Listen," said Mom in a softer tone, placing her blue clad arm around her daughter's shoulders. "I know you don't like each other, but she's your grandmother. I'm sure she loves you deep, deep, down inside."

Beth nodded, though not really believing what she said.

"Besides," her mom continued, "I have to put up with her too."

"I guess so." said Beth, "I just hate seeing her."

"I know, hun." said her mother, turning back to her Ladies Home Journal, "But this time we won't have to stay very long."

Beth sighed and continued to look out at the blue sky. She leaned her head against the cool glass.

She didn't know why her grandmother still flew her and her mother out to Wisconsin once a year. It's not like she saw much of them when they were there anyway.

Beth's grandmother, Bernadette, was the owner of a very popular antique store called Cavalier, and was always away somewhere buying new furniture or paintings to sell in her store. But on the rare occasion she was there, Bernadette was an unholy terror.

She would have Beth kneel on her praying stool for hours on end ( which was torture for both Beth's knees and the poor stool) and have her pray to Saint Michael for redemption. She would drag her off to her small Catholic church to talk to the fat, bloodhound-faced priests to see if they would baptize her into their holy communion. Either that or she would make Beth stay outside all day and pull weeds or wash windows.

Beth had to stop thinking about it.

Maybe the anxiety was starting to get to her, because a dull pain was starting to form in her forehead, like her brain was being pushed against her skull, and she could feel the bile churning in her stomach. She was going to throw-up.

"Mom, I have to go to the bathroom."she said as she stood up, ducking below the overhead compartment.

"Okay, sweetheart." said her mother pulling her legs as close to her body as possible to let her daughter through.

"Do you feel okay?" she asked looking up as Beth shimmed past her.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Beth said as she looked away from her mother's concerned face, and walked up the alle.

The SilverBird wasn't the worst plane in the world. The grey cylindrical ceiling was somewhat low, and all the plush green seats were crammed together like sardines in a tin can. A stifling 'new car' smell hung in the air and only added to her nausea.

Beth continued walking along the stiff gray carpet, glancing at the passengers as she went.

She saw an old man with frizzy white hair, wearing a grey tweed suit, asleep in his chair. His head flopped back onto his shoulders and his mouth hung slightly open. She also passed a little girl in blonde pigtails who was fidgeting in her seat and banging her hands on the white tray in front of her. "Stop that, Priscilla!" said the little girl's very irritated looking mother.

She had just passed the exit hatch on the left side when her headache suddenly got worse.

Gripping the back of an empty seat with sweaty palms to keep herself steady. Her head throbbed as if it had its own pulse. The green seats and grey walls bleared and shifted out of focus. The ground swayed like the deck of a ship. If she didn't get to the bathroom soon, she would throw up on the spot.

Just then the plane seemed to slow and the engines started winding down. Then the plane gave a powerful lurch and stopped moving entirely. Falling to the floor by the force of the lurch, Beth reached out and grabbed the armrest of the empty seat.

The small hairs on the back of her neck stirred. What happened? What's wrong with the plane? The frightened passengers gasped and some of them screamed. The old man in the tweed suit had woken up and was talking to the young man next to him about 'faulty technology'.

Beth was starting to pull herself back up again when a strange hum filled the room followed closely by a horrible, metallic, _CRUNCH_!. The sound of metal being crushed.

Several people screamed this time and some stood up from their seats. Fear shot up and down her body like an electric current. Planes aren't supposed to make that sound. What's going on? Where's Mom?

Beth looked wildy around at all the passengers. The yellow oxygen masks had sprung out from the overhead compartment and most of the people were putting theirs on. She couldn't see her mother through all the masked people. I have to find her. I have to. This can't be happening. Then her head split open.

The pain was too much. It was like her brain had cracked open her forehead and was pouring out onto the ground, she thought if she opened her eyes she'd see her cerebral cortex squirming on the grey carpet. Her body sank into the rough carpet as the pain coursed through her body. All she wanted was for it to stop.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, the pain vanished. And when she opened her eyes she did see something weird.

A transparent, bubble had appeared around her, encircling her like a mini ozone layer. She could see the people gawking at her, their mouths hung open as she reached her hand out and touched the bubble. It stretched out as she pushed it, but it didn't pop. Beth barely had time to gaze at this, however.

Her stomach collapsed as the plane started moving again. Only this time it was going forward and down, falling at such a rapid speed that Beth had to cling desperately to the empty seat to keep from falling to the front of the plane. They were falling into a nosedive.

They were going to crash.

Forcing her head up to look at the back of the plane, her black hair falling into her face, Beth saw the passengers griping to their green chairs. The yellow oxygen masks were strapped to their faces. They were desperately trying not to fall out of their seats. Where was Mom?

"Bethany!" cried a voice.

Her heart leapt. Looking around, she found her mother clutching to the armrest of her seat. The Ladies Home Journal had fallen to the floor and Beth watched it slide down the slanted alle, and bounce off her bubble.

"Mom!" she screamed so loud she thought her throat might tear. She had to get to her.

Zelda looked up and what Beth saw in her mother's face would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her mother had never looked so afraid before. There was no warmth or humor in her dark eyes, no loving smile on her red lips. Her black hair had fallen out of its bun and was hung wildly around her head.

Beth wanted to get up.

Her mom made to stand up, staggering, still strapped into her seat. She looked as though she was going to throw herself over to her. This couldn't be happening. They couldn't die.

Beth looked around the plane. The little girl in pigtails was screaming into her oxygen mask, her mother holding onto her tight.

"I love you, mom." said Beth. Horror slowly seeped into her mom's face. Beth could tell she was about to say something, but she would never get the chance to hear it.

Just then, before her mother could do anything, the exit hatch flung open sending fierce winds tearing through the plane. The wind knocked some of the oxygen masks off the passengers, and sent papers and suitcases whirling in the air till they flew out the hatch into the sky.

The last thing Beth saw was her mom's hair swirling violently around her face.

Letting go of the seat, the air leaving her lungs, she felt her great big body being sucked out of the plane and shooting through the exit hatch, bubble and all.

Outside of the plane, Beth felt herself spinning and falling. The whole thing had happened in just a few minutes. It was like a dream, only she couldn't wake up. Amazed she was still breathing, hearing only the wind shooting past her, she opened her eyes just enough to see.

Everything was a bright turquoise blue and hazy white clouds. Her bubble was still around her, guarding her like a force-field from the violent air currents. She watched the sky fall up away from her, wondering when she was going to hit the ground.

Turning her head to the side, the air rushing in her ears, she looked down and saw, in the rapidly approaching waters below, the white tail of the SilverBird sticking up in the blue waters.

Her insides turned to ice. Wasn't her mother in that plane? Wasn't she just talking to her a few second ago? She couldn't think about it. She couldn't think about anything anymore.

She knew one thing, though. If the plane hadn't killed her, the waters would.

Still seeing her mother's face and wishing for it all to end, Beth closed her eyes just before she hit the water.

Well, hope I didn't cut too much. While I was revising this chapter, it shocked me how much sap there was in it. I know it had to be dramatic but I think I went a little overboard. I've found, since I started revising, that less is more when writing. Strangely, I think cutting out all that sap made it all the more intense. Maybe it's just me. Review and tell me if I'm right, and it doesn't have to be five reviews, (God, I can't believe I did that!). See you soon. Luv, Lo.


	2. News Break

Hi, this is LolitaRed again! Sorry, but I could not help but post this chapter (I can hear the Sue Slayers sharping their knives already). Anyway, the chapter is short and the OC doesn't appear at all so I thought I'd post it. I would like to thank all those people who did reviewed my fanfic. It is your support that keeps me writing, so thank you so much for taking the time and effort to review. It really does make a difference.

Well, here is the second chapter, I hope you guys like it. See disclaimers in the beginning of chapter one, if you want to sue me for something. If not, enjoy the story.

After the Fall: Chapter Two, "News Break".

Rated: PG-13, for the use of the word 'bitches' and 'hoes'.

The late afternoon sun shone over the hills and grounds of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. It beamed across the sleek green lawns, over the large angel water fountain, to the vast buildings of the mansion. There it radiated into the bay window of the small, open kitchen.

Scott Summers and Jean Grey sat at the tiny white table, watching the latest MTV music videos. The setting sun painted the walls of the kitchen gold and orange.

Scott stared at the miniature TV that was bolted high on the wall. And though no one could tell from behind his dark lenses, he was occasionally watching Jean out of the corner of his eyes. Jean watched the big bootie girls and the do-rag wearing rap stars sing about their dirty hoes and bitches. In between the two on the table were some left over sausage links from the morning's breakfast.

They had just gotten down to the last link, and were eyeing each other unsurely, wondering if it would be an insult to the other if they ate it. Then Jean pushed the plate over to Scott.

"You take it." she said. Scott pushed the plate back toward her.

"No, you take it." he said, "I ate more than you did."

"But you had to train the new kids today. I'm sure that worked up an appetite." Jean said, shoving the plate back to him, a line of determination forming on her brow.

"Yeah, but you barely ate lunch today, Jean." Scott said, and even behind his glasses you could see his eyebrows frowning.

"Besides," he said, "I'm full." He pushed the plate back to her. She in turn shoved it toward him. Then a shoving match began full of 'No's and 'You take it's'. It ended when three shining claws appeared above them and skewered the sausage.

"Do any of ya mind if I take it?" asked Logan, sliding the link off his claws. He didn't wait for any of them to answer. Instead he swaggered over to the seat by the bay window and flopped down on it. He gnawed on the sausage with his bare hands.

Scott turned to him and said, "You know, Logan, there are such things as plates."

Logan glared at the boy and tore off a large chunk of sausage with his fang-like teeth, then looked over to the TV as the opening notes of the local news theme song filled the room.

A fat bald man in a red suit appeared on the screen and next to him was a snapshot of the tail of a plane, one half submerged in water the other half on fire. Helicopters hovered over the plane and small speedboats filled with scuba divers floated near the wreck.

"This just in. New England news has reported that the #33 SilverBird, crashed into Lake Michigan this afternoon on its flight from Kentucky to Wisconsin. The cause of the crash is still unknown, but the coast guard was reported in saying that both of the plane's engines were severely crushed by some outside force. Rescuers have been searching the crash site for survivors. So far only one person has been rescued and was taken to the Milwaukee Memorial Hospital at 3:30 p.m. No word yet on their condition but the outlook doesn't seem good." he said looking up from his newssheet. "We will report more on this story as it unfolds. I'm John Michaelis, and this has been the New England News Break."

The fat man and the snapshot vanished from the screen and the rappers and girls returned.

"That looked horrible." said Jean, her hand had been covering her mouth during the report. "Who could have survived that?"

"I don't know," said Scott, his jaw clenched, "but that whole 'outside force' thing sounded pretty suspicious. What could have crushed the engines from outside the plane?"

Before they could try to figure it out, two people appeared at the doorway. Professor Xavier wheeled into the kitchen, while Ororo stayed back by the door.

"Jean, Cerebro has detected a new mutant in Milwaukee and I must ask you to come with me and Ororo to meet her." Xavier said turning to the redhead. Scott spoke up first.

"But, Professor, new mutants are sprouting up all the time. Cerebro can hardly keep up with all of them, and the mansion can barely hold the ones here. You told us that we would have to stop taking in new mutants for a while." said Scott, his left eyebrow cocked questioningly.

Xavier looked at him thoughtfully, his hands clasped in his lap.

"That's true, Scott," he said, "but this girl's power is completely out of her control and is developing at an expeditious rate. She could be a danger to herself and others. I have no choice but to invite her to the Institute."

"Who is this girl?" Jean asked, "What kind of powers does she have?"

"I do not know what her powers are." said Professor, "She was on a plane when I was inside her head. I was only able to decipher her name. Her mind had suddenly closed off and I couldn't go any further, which could mean she's unconscious." he said, "Her name is Bethany Bancroft, and she is currently residing in the Milwaukee Memorial hospital." he continued.

"You mean she was the one in that plane crash in Lake Michigan?" Jean asked, her eyes widening.

"I'm afraid so." he said his eyebrows frowning. "We will have to be highly careful with this one. Her mind is already in a fragile state."

"Professor, don't you think you should wait a while before approaching this girl?" asked Scott, staring determinedly at the table. "I mean, surviving a plane crash is hard enough, let alone finding out you're a mutant right after."

"I know, Scott." he said, his eyes darkening. "But I'm afraid that if we don't get to her soon someone else will." he added "Will you come with us Jean?"

The redhead stood up from her seat.

"Of course, I will, Professor." she said.

"Thank you." he said softly, the gratitude shining in his eyes. He then turned to the man sitting by the bay window. "Logan, will you prep the Blackbird?" he asked.

The man named Logan stood up too. "Sure thing, Charles." he said in his deep gravely voice.

Fifteen minutes later the rocks on the cliff north of the mansion shook and fell to the lake below, and the waterfall that ran down the cliff spilt down the middle as a huge black jet burst through the water and flew west into the setting sun.

So how was it? Yes, no, maybe so? Any advice on writing the regulars would be greatly appreciated. So please, if you read it (regardless if you liked it or not) REVIEW!!! Thank you.

Review Response:

To Absolute Omega: Thank you so much. Glad you liked the crash scene, it took a lot of revising to make it work. I hold your opnion pretty high after I read your fic. X23 is one of my favorite characters, even though she was briefly on the show. I love how dark you made your story. Pretty disturbing for a kiddie show. Hope you continue reading (and writing!). ;)

To Sue Slayer: Well, different strokes for different folks. I warned you at the very beginning this was a Mary-Sue. As for your request for me to quote, "Please make it stop right now." I am sorry but I will not. If every writer stopped writing just because someone said they didn't like their story, then there would be no stories anywhere. But hey, as I said before, if you don't like it, don't read. Thanks for reviewing, though. ;)


	3. Lake of Tears and Bones

Hey again. Here's another chapter. Longer than the last one but with no X-Men in it. As before if you want to sue, read the disclaimer at the beginning of the first chapter. Thanks to all those who reviewed. My responses will be at the bottom of this chapter. Well, I think that's about all, so on with the story.

After the Fall: Chapter Three, "Lake of Tears and Bones."

Rating: PG, for mention of death and bodies.

Beth awoke. She tried to open her eyes but when she did a blinding light flooded her vision and forced them shut. She was hurt, her whole body hurt. A dull pounding thumped near the front of her forehead, her back and legs stung, and she couldn't move. What was worse, she had no idea where she was. What's going on? Was she dead?

For one brief moment Bethany didn't remember what had happened. For one beautifully serene moment the events of the crash were unknown to her. That fading second when one first wakes up and the flow of thought has not yet started would be Beth's last peaceful moment for a long time.

All too suddenly that moment was crushed and memories began to float to the surface of Bethany's mind. The stifling smell of the plane, the sound of the engines winding down, the feel of the plane falling forward. With a sickly seesaw in her stomach, Beth remembered her mother, and it was the thought of Mom that made her open her eyes.

She was laying down on a bed, she knew that for sure. A very big, firm bed. Her clothes had changed too. Instead of the shirt and jeans; a thick papery, speckled hospital gown covered her bulging body. Her face was pointed to the ceiling so the first thing she saw was the bright fluorescent lights above the bed. With a great effort, her neck stiff and sore, she turned her head to the side and saw sea-green walls and a half-opened door. The long white curtain around the bed had been pulled back and bustled slightly as she moved. Sharp stabbing pains throbbed in her lower back and hands as she pushed herself up against the pillows.

It was then that she heard the faint, bug-like beeping of a hospital machine. Behind the white curtain was a very clunky looking machine with blinking yellow lights and tons of small green numbers. Next to this machine was a tall silver pole with a plastic pouch filled with a clear liquid. Long thin tubes sprouted from the bottom of the pouch and connected to the top of Beth's hands. Now she knew why her hands hurt when she moved. She also knew where she was.

The sound of footfalls drifted for somewhere outside. An elderly woman in a red shirt and long white jacket poked her curly head into the room. She had almost walked away when she realized Beth was awake.

"Oh, hello, sweetheart." said the women, as she moved to Bethany's bedside. "How are you feeling?"

Beth couldn't speak, her thoughts kept revolving around a beautiful Hispanic mama and the sinking tail of a silver bird. Instead she stared at the silver stethoscope resting against the woman's abdomen.

"Are you all right, sweetie?" she said, pressing a cool palm against Beth's forehead. "You feel warm."

The nurse reached into an inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a tiny white thermometer.

"I'm fine." Beth said. She needed to find her mother. "Do you know where Zelda Bancrof-"

"Shhh. Don't talk or I won't get a good reading." Before Beth could ask, the nurse had stuck the thermometer in her mouth and she was forced to remain silent for the next few minutes. When the thermometer started to chirp, she was allowed to speak again.

"Do you know where my mother is? Is she here?" she asked, as the nurse read her temperature.

"99.9. Yep, you are a little warm, but that's to be expected." she said solemnly, shoving the thermometer back into her jacket. "What did you say, dear?"

"Look," Beth glanced at the gold name tag on her shirt. "Look, Mary, I was in a . . . an accident and I want to see my mom. Do you know where she is?"

Nurse Mary stared down at the bed sheets and began smoothing out the creases with her blue-veined hands.

"I'm sorry, dear, I don't know where your mother is at. Would you like me to check with the administration?"

Beth felt relief ease into her chest. "Yes, please."

"Aright, just stay here. I'll be back in a second." said Mary. Without looking at Beth, she swept out of the room and her footsteps could again be heard in the hall.

Bethany leaned back into her pillows, relieved but not completely calm. Mom was here, she had to be, but was she alright? What if she was crippled or brain damaged? What about all those other people on the plane?

Another stream of memories flooded her mind. That old man asleep in his plush green seat. The little blonde girl banging her hands on the tray. The girl's mother. Were all these people dead? The image of the plane's tail, half submerged and smoking, crept up again. How could anyone survive that? How did she?

Something had happened, something had saved her. What was it? She racked her brain but couldn't remember what had happened after the plane started to fall.

The footfalls returned. Sitting up straighter in her bed, Beth knew her mother was coming. She would come into the room and hold her and tell her she was fine. Mom would come and they'd go home (by car) and things would be normal again.

But the person who entered the room wasn't Mom or Mary. Bernadette Bancroft strode into the room, her back straight, her heels making sharp _'clack-clack'_ sounds as she came to Beth's side.

"There you are, Bethany." she said, pulling a plush plastic chair up to the bed and sitting down. She smoothed out her long black skirt with her gnarled hands.

"What are you doing here?" asked Beth, looking at Gran's all black outfit (plain button-down blouse, long skirt, heels, big black purse) and felt her meek hope float away.

"You were in a plane crash!" she said. The bluntness of the statement shocked Beth. "Where else would I be?"

"Where's Mom?" she asked. Instead of answering her, Gran cast her cool grey eyes to the hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Where is she?" Beth repeated.

"I'm not sure." she said. Her lips twitched. "You'll have to ask the doctor about that. Speaking of which, where is that man?"

Beth heard more footsteps as a man in a sea-green, papery suit and skullcap entered. He looked in his mid-forties, judging by the amount of grey, wavy hair poking out from under his paper cap.

"Oh, Dr. Davis, there you are." sighed Gran, patting her short steel-grey hair absent-mindedly.

"How is everyone?" he asked, a kind smile spreading on his aged face. He strode over to the machine, briefly examining the numbers and graphs, then came back to the bedside.

"Glad to see you're up, Miss Bancroft." he said, his eyes crinkled as he gave Beth one of his best smiles. "How do you feel?"

"A little sore." said she, glad she didn't have to be alone in a room with Gran. Maybe this doctor knew where Mom was?

"Oh, well that should pass. Let's check you out, shall we?" he said, pulling a stethoscope out from under his baggy shirt. He had Beth scoot over to the edge of the bed and pressed the silver disk to her chest and back.

"Breathe. Good. Take a deep breath for me. Great." he said, moving the disk here and there. Finally (Beth's back was starting to seize up from sitting straight for so long) he pulled away and stuck the stethoscope back under his shirt.

"Well, your breathing is fine. So is your heart rate." he said, taking a chart from the end of the bed, flipping pages as he spoke. "You do have some bruising along your back but that should clear up in the next few weeks."

"Don't worry, doctor. I'll take good care of her." said Gran, patting Beth's bruised knee gently.

"Doctor, do you know where my mother is? Have you seen her?" she asked as the doctor marked something on his chart.

Dr. Davis looked up sharply, his usual smile replaced by a shifty nervous look. An icy feeling rushed down Beth's torso. He didn't answer right away, instead he mimicked Gran and pulled another chair over to the bed. He sat down heavily, as if years of work and strain had just caught up with him.

"Miss Bancroft," he asked, leaning closer to her, concern in his dark eyes. "What do you remember about the crash?"

"Well, I remember I was heading to the bathroom when the plane started to . . . to . . . " She couldn't finish.

"That's alright, dear." said the doctor, rubbing his stubby hand down Beth's flabby arm. "Please continue."

"Anyway, I couldn't get to a seat and I was trying to get up. I remember feeling sick and dizzy, then the exit hatch opened. It was crazy, but I could still breathe."

"You could?" asked Dr. Davis, looking confused.

"Yeah. Something was helping me breathe. I don't remember what." Beth thought about it. She remembered something had been around her, protecting her. Then an image came to her mind. A transparent force encircling her. The bubble. The bubble had saved her. But, wait, the bubble had shone up before the plane started to crash. Where had it come from? She now remembered the headache she had just before it showed up. Had that caused it? Was it from God?

"Continue." said Dr. Davis again. She wouldn't tell him. He might think she's weird or something. Claiming a bubble from God had saved her.

"Yeah, I could breathe. After the hatch opened, I got sucked out. That's all I can remember."

"Hmm." hummed the doctor. He sat back in his chair and stared at Beth as though she were a puzzle, a problem on the operating table.

Gran, who had been listening silently, turned Dr. Davis.

"Doctor, who did she ever survive that? The wind alone should have killed her, then falling into the lake." she asked, her brow knitted. Maybe she was upset Beth had survived.

"Well, it seems your granddaughter was able to endure a fall from ten thousand feet in an un-breathable atmosphere. To my knowledge, no one has ever survived that."

They both looked at her. Beth felt her face heat up and her stomach shrivel. Was she a freak or something? Why hadn't she died? She forced herself to put those thoughts aside. There was something else she had to ask, something much more important.

"Doctor, have you seen my mother. Her name is Zelda Bancroft, she has black hair and she's skinny and short–,"

"Bethany," said Davis, reaching out his hands and grasping her shoulders, his eyes unbelievably sad. "The cost guard has been at the crash for hours, they are the ones that brought you here. I'm sorry to tell you this but you were the only one they found. They found you washed up on the beach, two miles from the crash. The others were still in the plane. I'm sorry, but it is very unlikely anyone else survived. That includes your mother."

He continued talking. He told her that the coast guard hadn't found any bodies yet, that they were trying to keep the plane from collapsing in the lake (sealing all the passengers in their watery graves). That it was no longer a search and rescue but a body cleanup.

But Bethany wasn't listening; she was thinking. She thought about her mom, standing in front of her vanity mirror back in Kentucky, applying lipstick. About how Mom had held her as she cried at her father's funeral two years ago (tears and snot soaking into her black dress). About the last time she would ever see her mother; the scared, desperate look on her face just before the hatch burst open. A pain welled up in her chest, gnawing and piercing; her lungs tightened and her eyes burned. Deep inside she had known Mom was dead, she could feel it in her bones. Mother rabbits can physically feel if their children have died and will kill themselves, they will eat at their own body (gnawing on the lucky foot). It felt as though she had tripped and was falling to the ground, shocked and scared, stomach turning to ice.

One single tear squeezed out from her eyelids and fell onto her chunky cheek, so hot it scorched, and slid down her face till it finally disappeared under the many folds of her double-chins.

"Don't" said Gran softly, placing a calloused hand on her arm. "There'll be plenty of time for that later."

She jerked her arm away just as someone knocked on the door. Looking up, Beth saw three of the strangest people she had ever seen enter the room.

Well, at last. Another chapter done. Who are those people, I wonder? You'll have to review to find out.

Review Response:

Absolute Omega: It's always nice to hear from you. Glad you still like my fic. The 'gratitude' in the professors eyes is just that, gratitude. Come on! The guy is in a wheelchair, he couldn't feel anything down there anyway (I'll probably get some flames for that comment). Glad you liked the 'you eat it' exchange, I just thought it was something they'd do (damn Jott to the seven rings of hell!), and I also thought Logan would be the one to break it up. And lastly, you don't know how much it means to me that you think this is intelligent for a Mary-sue. I've been getting a lot of heat from people (namely my friend Rose who just won't shut up) claiming this is the worst Sue they've read. It's nice to know someone thinks it's more than just teen-girl drabble. Well, hope you didn't mind the long response. Peace out, homes.

To DreamerLady: I appreciate the offer, though I'm not quite sure what a muse is ( sorry but I'm kinda new to the fanfic scene). If you could email me back with info on the subject then I'd be glad for the assistance. I'm grasping for any straws I can clutch at right about now, so any help would be good, and you can never have too much support. Hope you like this chap and that you email me. And P.S. good luck with the authors and the homework. Lo ;)


	4. Invitation to a Freak Show

Hey everyone. Here's the fourth chapter. It's been a busy week so I might not get the fifth one up and running till after a couple of weeks. I can't believe so many of you reviewed. Thank you to all those who offered advise for my writing. That's what reviews are for. I ran this chap through a _very_ fine toothed comb this time. Hope you like it. Keep 'em coming.

After the Fall: Chapter Four, 'Invitation to a Freak Show'

A bald man in a wheelchair, a tall black woman with dazzling white hair, and a pretty girl with bright ruby-red hair entered the room.

"Hello, Dr. Davis. I'm Charles Xavier." said the man, extending a hand which the doctor shook, his smile returning.

Both of the girls glanced at Beth. She was suddenly very aware of her weight ( which neared the two-hundred pound mark) and felt her face heat up.

"We are here to see a patient of yours. Bethany Bancroft." Baldy continued, "We were told she was here."

Davis rose from his chair.

"Professor Xavier, of course. Wonderful to see you. Me and my colleges are very familiar with your work in genetics."

"Thank you." replied the cripple.

"This is Bethany." Davis said. "I was just finishing my check up on her."

"How is she?" the professor asked politely. Why were they talking about her like she wasn't there, sitting on the bed, staring back at them? She tried to be angry, to feel offended, but found she didn't care. The aching hole in her chest was all she could feel.

"She'll be fine. It's amazing really." he said, eyes looking perplexed again. "Never seen anything like it in all my years at this hospital."

"Interesting." said the professor, faintly. "May we speak to her?"

Davis looked from him, to Gran, to Beth.

"You'll have to ask her, Professor." he said, turning to Beth. "Would you like to talk to them, Miss Bancroft?"

Beth shrugged her shoulders and starred down at the floor. Anything to keep her mind off of Mom.

Gran, who had been watching these new people, spoke up.

"I don't think she is ready for company yet, doctor." she said, trying (and failing in Beth's opinion) to give a kind smile.

The crippled man turned to Gran, a half imploring, half stern look on his regal face.

"Please, Miss–,"

"Ms. Bancroft, and I'm Bethany's grandmother." she cut in, her eyebrows knotting.

"Please Ms. Bancroft, we're here to help your granddaughter."

Gran opened her mouth again, ready to protest, when Beth interrupted.

"Shut up, you hag."she said, not caring that Gran looked ready to kill. "I don't care if they stay."

Everyone went quiet. Dr. Davis looked from Beth to Gran, as if he was watching a tennis match. The two women glanced at each other, sharing uneasy looks. Baldy looked at Beth, calculating, his hand cupping his chin.

For some reason, she suddenly felt an eerie sensation in her head, as though little ants were marching around and picking at her brain. Maybe it was the IV.

Gran looked the worst. Her fists were clenched in her black lap, her face turning a nasty shade of pink, and her jaw clenched. Beth knew she would catch hell for that comment later but right now she just couldn't muster up any kind of fear.

"Would you excuse us, doctor?" asked Baldy, finally pulling his gaze away.

Davis, who looked relieved to finally be able to leave, nodded his head.

"Of course." He headed toward the door, stopped and turned to Beth. "I'll check on you later tonight, Bethany."

She nodded, starting to wish everyone would leave.

When the door had closed, Baldy rolled next to the bed. The two women sat down in the chairs next to the window, their vibrant hair shining in the dying sunlight.

"Who are you?" asked Gran, clasping her purse with her clawlike hands.

Baldy surveyed Gran with his rich brown eyes.

"My name is Charles Xavier." he said, extending his hand again (which Gran starred at from down her nose). "I run an Institute for children. These are my associates, Ms. Ororo Munroe and Jean Grey." he said, gesturing casually to the women. "We are interested in enrolling your granddaughter."

That made Beth look up.

"What?" she asked, gingerly sitting up.

Xavier turned that brown gaze to her. She felt the 'ant' feeling in her head again.

"I would like to invite you to join our institute for gifted teenagers, like yourself." he said.

"What do you mean, 'gifted'?" asked she, heart pounding.

"Gifted in many ways." he said, propping his chin on peaked fingertips. "Possessing. . . abilities that the general public does not."

"Why do you want me?" asked Beth, tugging at the bed sheets, (as she was prone to do). "I'm not special."

Even while she said this, the memory of the bubble crept up in her mind. Okay, that was strange, but who says she created it. It was from God, not her.

"I'm afraid you are, Bethany." he said, watching her solemnly. "Very special. Tell me about the 'bubble'."

"What?" replied Beth, weakly. How could he have known?

"On the plane. I believe you saw a bubble?" he said, as serious as a judge upon giving his ruling. His clean scalp shined in the overhead light.

She looked down at the floor, yet again. Should she tell him? He obviously (and unbelievably) knew what had happened. Should she trust these people, who she had met just minutes ago, with something she herself did not understand? Why did she have to do this now? Her mother has just. . . . She couldn't say it, not yet.

"Miss?" Xavier's voice drifted into her thoughts and brought her back to the present.

"I don't have to answer that." she said, surprised at the hollow tone of her voice.

Xavier was silent, his face somber. It was true, she didn't have to talk to him at all, she could just send Charley and his angels back to wherever the hell they came from and she could go back to. . . . Well, she had nowhere to go, but she wasn't going to be institutionalized. They could find some other freak to put in their 'school'.

"No, you don't." said Xavier, leaning closer. "But we are here to help you."

Gran's voice snapped like a whip in the quiet room.

"Help her?", she said, mouth crimped. "Help her with what? And what is this 'bubble' you all keep talking about?"

Xavier turned his head to Gran. The girls by the window exchanged worried looks. With a deep sigh, the professor explained.

"It appears that young Bethany here," he said, "is a mutant."

"What?" exclaimed both Beth and Gran.

"What's a mutant?" asked Beth. Did he just call her a monster? True she was fat but she was hardly a monster.

"You are a carrier of what is known as the X-gene." said Xavier, polite and serious as ever. "This gene is rare and normally manifests in adolescence. It gives the carrier, the mutant, an extra ability."

"What kind of ability?" asked Beth, getting more confused and sick with this conversation by the minute.

"It varies from person to person." Xavier turned to the girls by the window and gestured with his hand. "Jean."

The redhead stood and walked over to the three of them. "Yes, professor?"

"Jean," said Xavier turning back to them. "is one of my students. She is also a mutant."

"Hello." said the girl, looking calm yet nervous; like a person who had to walk across a train track and still felt uneasy even though there was no train in sight.

"Would you show them, please?" Xavier asked her with a wave of his hands.

"Of course." she replied. Then she lifted her right hand and touched her temple, her gold bangles jangled slightly. Her eyes scanned the room and finally settled on Gran's purse. Beth wondered what the hell she was doing.

While she starred at Jean, Gran gasped. Turning to her, Beth watched, mouth hanging open, as Gran's heavy black purse left her harpy's grasp and floated about six inches in the air. Then the bag slowly sank back down onto Gran's lap (who promptly knocked it to the ground, nickels and her onyx bead rosary spilling out onto the speckled tiles).

"Thank you, Jean." said Xavier, eyes following a nickle as it rolled by his chair.

The girl lowered her hand and walked back to her chair. Apparently Gran's reaction had scared her off, but then Beth was pretty sure she'd have done the same.

"What was that?" she asked Xavier. "Was that her 'ability'?"

"Yes," he said, hands folding in his lap. "Jean has the gift of telekinesis. The ability to move objects with her mind."

"That's impossible!" exclaimed Gran, as she scooped the rosary and change back into her purse.

Beth would have been glad to point out to Gran that it obviously _was_ possible since it had just happened right in front of them, but she decided just to ignore her (which always seemed to be the best method when handling Gran).

"How do you know I have an 'ability'," she asked Xavier, pulling at the white sheets, "or that I'm even a mutant?"

Xavier gave a facial twitch that she supposed was to the closet to a smile he would give.

"I know what you are because of my own 'ability'." he said, added the same lilt to the word that she had. "I am a telepath, which means I can read minds. With the help of a machine that strengthens my telepathy, I was able to locate your mutant signature."

So that's how they found her. A machine and his brain. But if he could read minds, was he reading hers now? Do not think bad thoughts. Do not think bad thoughts.

"That's all well and dandy," piped Gran from her chair (which Beth noticed had been secretly scooted back farther and farther away from the bed), "but what does this have to do with _my _granddaughter?"

"Bethany, we believe, posses this X-gene." said Xavier, head turned to Gran, his eyes solid yet distant.

"You have no proof of that." stated Gran, her chin sticking out.

"I'm afraid I do." replied Xavier, turning back to Beth. "Bethany, I think it's time you told us about what happened on the plane."

He had read her mind, that's how he knew about the bubble (that must have also caused that ant-like feeling in her head). Should she? Fk it. She didn't really care what happened now.

"Well," she said slowly, looking at anything but their faces. "I was sitting in the plane and my head started to hurt. Then I went to go to the bathroom and it got worse. That's when the plane stopped and I fell down. When I got back up there was this bubble around me."

"Bubble," Gran interrupted, "What bubble?"

"Please, Ms. Bancroft." shushed Xavier, listening keenly "Continue."

"It was a weird bubble, I couldn't pop it. It was all clear and seemed to hold the air in like a force field or something. But anyway the plane started falling and the hatch flew open and I got sucked out. That's all I can remember." She said the last part of the story quickly. "I think the bubble saved me."

"Hmm," hummed Xavier. "It certainly seems so."

"Professor Xavier," she asked, "what is my ability? You're a telepath, you should know."

"Well," he said, hand resting under his chin. "That bubble, as you called it, was an abstract form of telekinesis."

"So, I'm like her?" she asked, pointing to the redhead, who looked like her polar opposite.

"Yes, it seems so."

"What does this mean?" asked Gran, subtly rubbing her hands (as she was prone to do).

"It means I'm a freak." replied Beth. It was true.

"No, it's not." said Xavier, his face stern.

"What?" piped Gran, confused.

"What would you call me?" she asked, her voice cracked ( which surprised her since it had stayed remarkably steady throughout the conversation). All of the pain and anger welled up inside her and wadded in her throat. She had been forcing herself to not breakdown, to wait until everyone had gone before she cried, but now that she had started, she couldn't stop.

"I'm a freak, a monster." she said, eyes burning. "I caused the crash. It was my fault."

"What?!" exclaimed Gran, a lock of her silver hair falling out of its rigid curls.

"If I can move things with my mind then I must have caused the crash. The plane had been fine until my head started to hurt."

"Bethany," replied Xavier, "you don't know that for--"

"Shut up!" she yelled, her hands balled up in her greasy hair. Her mind was spinning around in her skull, trying to hang onto a single thought and failing. Everything flashed in her memory; the headache, the nausea,the_ crunch _the plane had made, the Ladies Home Journal bouncing off of her bubble. It had all been her fault. All of those people, the little girl, her mother, the old man, Mom. They were all dead now because of her. She couldn't take it.

She looked around the room, eyes not taking in anything, head throbbing. She heard the sound of the window and chairs rattling.

'Stop!' shouted Xavier's voice, only it hadn't been shouted out loud.

'I can't!' she thought back.

"Yes, you can." he said, aloud. He had his hands to his temples, eyes closed. 'Just listen to my voice.'

She closed her eyes. It was too much, it was just like being back on the plane. The more she tried to calm her mind, the more it sped up. Ants were marching around her brain, taking tiny information with them back to the hive.

'Relax.'

'I can't'

'Shhh.'

'No.'

'Calm down, you will be alright.'

Slowly, the ants multiplied, covering her whole skull. They smothered it until she couldn't think, couldn't feel. She laid back down in the pillows, suddenly feeling more tired than she'd been since she'd woken up. Her eyes drifted open and shut, trying to stay awake.

Jean was standing from her chair, which was now three feet above the ground along with all of the other chairs in the room. Her hands were outstretched, using her mind to control the chairs. Carefully she brought them back down, but neither she nor the black woman sat in them.

Xavier leaned back in his wheelchair, beads of sweat rolling down his long square nose. He opened his eyes, their deep brown depths were oddly comforting to Beth (maybe because they matched Mom's).

Gran stood trembling by her newly grounded seat, purse clenched tight in her hand.

"That is enough!" she shouted, her pale face turning pink again. "Get out!"

"Mrs. Bancroft," said Xavier, wheeling slightly away from the flushed woman, "please. We were only trying to help Bethany. You've seen her powers. She needs to learn how to control them."

"I've seen nothing!" she said, her back straightening. "None of you have either."

"She needs guidance. She needs assistance. We would be happy to help her."

"She does not need your help! Nothing is wrong with my granddaughter!"

"Is everything alright in here?" asked nurse Mary, poking her head around the door.

Gran turned to the nurse, apparently glad that someone normal was there.

"Nothing, these people were just leaving." she said, pointing her wrinkled finger at Xavier and the women.

"Ms. Bancroft, please don't do this."

"You heard me."

Beth watched all this through a haze of sleep and headache. Wishing everyone would leave, that she could leave.

"If you insist. I do hope you will reconsider our offer." he said rigidly, spinning his chair around to face the door. It was a strange movement. Done by any other man, the gesture would have appeared weak and embarrassing, but Xavier made it look strong and regal.

He paused before rolling to the door, reached inside his olive jacket, and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"Take this." he said, handing the paper toward Beth. "Use it if you need us."

Gran made to snatch the paper away, but Beth reached out a shaking hand, grabbed the sheet, and hugged it to her chest (a place where no one would dare to go).

"Let's go." he said to the women. "It has been . . . nice meeting you. Good-bye."

He exited the room first, his chair making a slight mechanical hum, followed by the black woman (who nodded her head at Beth before leaving). Jean was the last to go, grabbing the doorknob, halfway shutting the door. She looked back at Gran, then at Beth.

"Hope you feel better." she said softly to Beth, before closing the door with a gentle snap, their footsteps echoing from the hall.

"Well," said Gran, tentatively sitting back into her chair. "Thank goodness that's over with. Can you believe those people? Like I would really let you go with those--"

"Get out." said Beth, quietly.

"What?"

"Get out!" she shouted, her throat scratching and tearing.

"How dare you!" said Gran, holding her purse as though she would sling it at her. "After all I've put up with. How do you think I feel about all this? My daughter-in-law dying in a plane crash! Leaving me to raise her daughter!"

"Get out!" she shouted again.

Gran stared at her for a moment, as though seeing her for the first time. Then stood up from the chair.

"Fine, if that'swant you want." She patted her hair and straightened out her skirt. "I'll come back once you've cooled down."

"Fine, go."

Stomping more than she had to, Gran clacked out of the room and into the hallway, (her heels had to have made marks in the floors), and Beth was finally alone.

Pulling out the paper from under her chest, she read what it said.

Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters

Providing support and direction for the countries many gifted children.

181 Westchester Ave.

Bayville, New York 12614

Phone # (616) 555 - 4651

She stared at these words, blurred from the tears that were beginning to well up, then stuffed the crumpled paper under her pillow and laid back down. All she wanted was to go to sleep, to shut her mind down and not have to think anymore. Tired (probably more so than she'd ever been) and raw, she closed her hot eyes and let her mind slowly drift away. The last thing she remembered hearing was the beeping of the hospital machine and, (strangely) the roar of some kind of engine before finally dozing off.

Two thousand feet in the air, Professor Xavier sighed.

"How is she, Charles?" asked Ororo, next to him in the pilots seat.

"She's asleep now."

"Well, that went well." said Jean from behind. "That grandmother of hers is a peach."

"What are we going to do, Professor?" asked Ororo, elevating the Blackbird a few hundred feet. "Her powers are out of control, making those chairs fly around the room like that."

"There's nothing else we _can_ do." he said, brow knitted. "All we can do now is wait. It's her choice."

"I'm sure Ms. Bancroft won't help any." said Jean, legs crossed and her head in her hand.

"We will just have to wait and see." said Prof.

"I guess." she sighed, looking out at the cerulean blue waters of Lake Michigan.

As the Blackbird roared into the east, millions of kids were settling into their beds, some already asleep. Kids who never knew what it was to be different or strange, who never had to train or fight, who never had to feel the raw ache of loss in their chests. Millions of these kids dreaming of being superheros. As the Blackbird soared across the almost black sky, millions of these kids never knew what it was to be alone.

This had to be the longest chapter I have ever written, _ever_. A whopping 3000 something words! Hope it wasn't too long, (I personally like to curl up with a nice long fic). Keep reviewing and tell me what ya think. See ya in a few weeks! ;)

Review Response:

To DreamerLady: First of all, I would be proud to have you as my muse. I do need someone to research X-Men and accents especially. I don't want to get into everything here (it would spoil the story) so I will email you later, don't delete it. Second of all, I'm so glad you like it! Hope you read this and review. Talk to ya soon, Lo.

To Absolute Omega: I'm starting to look forward to your reviews. I'm so glad so many people like that Beth is fat (I too like characters better when they are normal). I didn't try to make Gran wholly evil (lets face it, no one is) but I couldn't have her being completely nice. I'm gonna go on a little hiatus too. Tell me when you come back. Lo ;)

To Idiot: God, I'm glad someone had the blls to tell me how to improve my fic. Thanks for not being just one of those 'Great fic, keep it up' kind of reviewers. It was not my intention to be obnoxious. I keep mentioning Beth's weight both to keep the image of a fat girl in the reader's head and to give the story a certain sense of absurdity (I read far too much Nabokov, hint to my name).

Sorrel, (as I read somewhere) was a term for reddish-brown, but your right, that word is a little confusing. Carmel is a term for light-brown skin, I guess I need to work on my color descriptions.

The whole 'five reviews' thing was a big mistake. That is why I stopped putting that at the end of my chapters. The whole 'can't except anymore mutants' thing was just me being realistic. I saw one episode in which the mutant race was multiplying so fast that I didn't think Xavier could keep up with all of them, so I thought he would have to draw a line somewhere (but I couldn't have him _not_ except Beth or where would my story go?). With Gran's outfit I just didn't have the space to fill in a full description but I did want to give the readers some sense of Gran's fashion style (she never wears pants for one thing). The 'one single tear' was a slip up. I just got carried away with the drama and slipped into cliche hell. I will change that. You're right, I hate it when fics depict Scott and Jean as total jerks (I try to stay as close to character as possible as a general rule for this fic). Hope this review wasn't too long for ya (I just seem to be on a writing binge or something). Thanks so much for the review, and I will go back and make changes to those first chapters someday. Thanks. ;)

To Manga-faerie: Glad you like Beth. It's always nice to know that people don't think your fic is a Mary-Sue. Hope you keep reading and reviewing. Luv, Lo ;)


	5. To Grandmother's House We Go

Hi, everyone. I'm back. Well, I don't really know what to say except thank you all for reading this fic and hope you like it as much as I liked writing it. Oh, I do want to make a small shout out to my muse, the one and only DreamerLady whose humor and support have kept me writing. Everyone must bow to the Lady.

Now, on with the chapter.

After the Fall: Chapter Five, 'To Grandmother's House We Go'.

Rated (forgot to add this to the last chapter): PG-13, for curse words.

Two days later, Bethany was released from Milwaukee Memorial with nothing but the clothes she had worn before the crash and a prescription for painkillers. She had nowhere else to go, so now she was staying at Gran's two story brick house just outside of town. Gran, who felt it was her responsibility to look after her granddaughter, had turned down a three-week antique shopping trip to New York to stay with Beth. So there she was.

The sun blazed in white hot rays across the long sloped field of Gran's backyard. Beth was hunched over the faded garden near the porch, pulling and twisting at the gray and yellow weeds that spawned there. Cold sweat rolled down her back and soaked into her white tank top. Clumps of dirt clung to her faded jeans, as she pulled with bare hands at a particularly stubborn stalk of sweet clover. Giving up, she fell back, sat on the stiff grass, and stared moodily at the flowers. Poppies swayed slightly in the cool breeze (the only thing Beth had been thankful for), their spindly stems almost snapping in half. Bright white daisies grew close to the ground, their petals starting to brown in the sweltering heat.

Reaching out a grass stained hand, she picked off the head of a poppy. Slowly, mechanically, she began to pluck the round scarlet petals and watched them float to the ground until the only thing left was the clump of pollen. She stared at the small thing, at the gold powder smudging on her fingers. The sun's rays scorched the back of her neck. Her hands hurt, her back was killing her. Wishing she had taken more than one dose of Percodan, she closed her heavy eyes.

The dull throbbing that had plagued her at the hospital blossomed again near her forehead. A slow splash of nausea rolled in her belly. She couldn't stop thinking about the crash. Every time she did the throbbing and sickness would rear up again. 'I have to think about something else, anything else.' she thought opening her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the plucked petals dancing around two feet off the ground. They spun in the air, slow at times then speeding into a wild frenzy, and she knew it wasn't the wind that caused it. Backing away, she looked around to see if anyone could see this. Satisfied that no one was watching, she looked back at the petals.

Fear spread thickly across her gut as she watched the four petals dance. If it had been any other force besides her mind causing the petals to move, she would have liked to watch them twirl around. But knowing it was she that caused it, she that was controlling it, made her hands turn cold.

This wasn't normal, this wasn't right. She didn't want to do this. She wanted to be normal, to have a mother, and to go home where she and forget she ever heard the word 'mutant'. But these stupid petals wouldn't let her, they symbolized everything she was afraid of. You're not normal, you're not fine, you can't go home.

Breathing deeply, she studied the red petals. The more she was afraid the higher and faster the twirled, the calmer she got the more they'd slow down. That was the trick, she had to calm down. Closing her eyes, she breathed slowly, imaging them sinking and floating back down to the ground. When she opened her eyes the second time, the petals were back on the grass, the breeze shifting them slightly.

Looking down at her hand, she saw the crushed pollen head she had clenched in her fist. The golden dust formed clumps on her sweaty hands. Casting it aside, she looked at the small piles of pulled weeds strung out around the flowers. Deciding she didn't have the will or energy to clean up the mess, she got up and headed past the screen door and into Gran's house.

The first room she entered was the kitchen, which was the smallest room in the house. It consisted of a fridge, a four-chair table and one dingy green window above the sink that overlooked the garden. Black and white tiles checkered across the floor. Dark wood cabinets lined the walls and a clean black marble counter sat bellow them.

Scanning the contents of the fridge, she pulled out a hunk of cedar and a jar of mayonnaise. Taking her items to the counter, she quickly made herself a cheese sandwich, (without washing her hands). She had just finished putting the top slice of bread on, (large amounts of mayonnaise squishing out onto the counter top) when Gran walked in.

She was dressed in a white blouse and long black skirt, her gray curls pulled back into a tight bun. She strode to the table and sat gingerly. Beth could have sworn she heard the old woman's joints crack.

"So. . . ." said Gran, staring at her hands. "Did you finish weeding?"

"Yeah." Beth cradled her sandwich in a paper towel and sat opposite Gran.

Gran stood from the table just as Beth sat down and walked over to the window, surveying the garden (Beth was shocked she could see anything out of the green haze).

"Look at that mess!" said Gran, hands gripping the counter. "You didn't even pick up the weeds you pulled!"

Beth sat down the sandwich, which she had almost taken a bite of, and felt anger boil in her chest. How dare she? She pulls the weeds and all Gran can do is nit-pick. Not even say a simple 'thank you'.

"If you want it done so badly, do it yourself." she said, taking a savage bite out of her sandwich.

Gran stood, staring, her white knuckles standing out against the black marble. She didn't say anything, just stared as though she didn't know what to say. Then she folded her arms across her chest and cooly walked over to the table. Beth watched her with a vague sense of fear, she knew it wouldn't be completely unlike Gran to smack her, (though she's never done it before).

Instead she just stood there and stared at her, eyes roaming over the fat roll protruding from under her tank top.

"You know, Bethany." she said, softly. "You really should start watching what you eat. I see you've gained a few pounds since last summer."

It was worse than being smacked. Beth didn't know what to say, didn't know what witty comeback to use. She always became tongue-tied whenever anyone said anything about her weight. Setting down the sandwich (a drop of Miracle Whip falling onto the table), she felt her face become hot and her stomach tighten.

"Okay." was all she could say.

"Well," said Gran, looking around the room, anything but Beth. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Okay." she repeated.

Staring down at the table, Beth listened to the kitchen door as it swung shut, and waited until the sound of Gran's heels had faded away. Then she stood up and walked out into the hallway, leaving her sandwich on the table after only taking one bite.

Pausing on the stairway, she scanned the pictures that hung along the wall. Most were old black and white photos of people who looked like they lived a century ago. The picture of her grandfather hung in a square black oak frame. Gabriel Bancroft stared out at Beth with light, eerie eyes that shone in the photo. Judging by the wrinkles in his pale oval face, she guessed he had to be around sixty or so when the photo was taken. Beth had never met Grandpa, he had died when she was a baby, (his liver finally succumbing to years of Bourbon).

Looking past Grandpa, her eyes darted from frame to frame till she found the one she was looking for.

Directly above the twelfth step of the staircase, in a round dark cherry frame, was the picture of her father. Gabriel Bancroft Junior grinned at her, half hiding behind a birch tree. He looked handsome in a very boyish way. She suspected he had been twenty when this picture was taken, the same year he had met Mom. He was bathed in the shadow, brilliant speckles of sunlight peaking through the yellow leaves, giving the picture a golden hue. His dark blond hair laid wildly, if not a little thinly, in his eyes. The shadow blocked Beth from telling what color his eyes were. Some light shade she guessed, a blue or gray maybe.

She tried to remember what color they were, but found she couldn't. Dad had died when she was six, and she had very few (and hazy) memories of him. He had been driving home late one night, in a rainstorm, and had taken a turn to sharply. The truck had rolled five times before finally stopping in a ditch. His death had been ruled an accident but Beth secretly suspected alcohol had been a part of it. Everyone in Kentucky drank.

Beth supposed his young death had been a blessing. It was better that he die when she was little and wouldn't remember, than now when she fully feel it, like Mom. She's not dead. She's not dead.

Tearing her gaze away from the photos, she continued to stomp up the stairs. Pushing open the dark wood door, she entered her room.

Beth's room was really the guest room. The thick grey curtains draped over the only window in the room, blocking out any sunlight and casting shadows on the pale blue walls. The bed lay on the far left of the room, opposite the window. She had left it unmade and some of the white sheets had fallen to the floor. Running a hand over the black iron footboard, she promptly jumped into the bed.

Thoughts, one after the other, began to sink in her head, like something thick and dark absorbing her mind.

'What have I become?' she thought. What is this thing inside of her? What went wrong? Everything had change so much, so fast. Where had everyone gone? She just wanted it all to go back to the way it was. Before the crash, before she became a mutant, before everything had fallen apart. Wasn't it only a week ago that she was fine, watching TV, shopping with Mom back in sizzling Kentucky? Now she was in Wisconsin, with Gran, waiting for the coast guard to fish out her mother's body.

A mucky feeling bloomed in her chest. There was no other way around it. It had been two days since the crash, there's no way anyone could survive being in water for two days. The coast guard had been pulling out bodies since yesterday, all of them dead. It wasn't an 'if they found Mom's body' situation anymore, it was a 'when they found it'. No doubt about it, Mom was dead, but what's worse is that it was all her fault. If she hadn't been a mutant, then none of this would've happened.

Anger rose like a flaming sword, tightening her lungs. She hated it, hated it all. Hated God for letting it happen. Wasn't he supposed to look out for her, protect her and love her? There was no God. No one looked out for anyone.

Her head was heavy and filled with static. She curled into the sheets and let her eyes drift shut. Thoughts began to slow, rolling and twirling like those petals, till she was barely aware of them. Eventually, they faded away.

_Clack, clack, clack, clack_. . . . _Clack, clack, clack, clack_.

Beth awoke just as Gran came in, the door making a long screeching sound.

"What?" she asked, voice raspy from sleep. She realized with a wave of embarrassment that she had slept with her mouth open and some saliva had sneaked its way onto to her chin.

"It's time for your bible study." said Gran, as she strode over to the other end of the room where an old wooden dresser and closet stood. Gran reached inside the closest and turned on the bare light bulb.

She knew instantly what the old woman was looking for.

"It's only," she glanced at the Roman Numeral clock above the bed and counted the little lines. "It's only . . . Six." she finished weakly.

"That's right." said Gran, pulling out the knobby pine prayer stool and setting it facing east. "And you know your bible study is at six in the morning, noon in the day, and–"

"And six at night." groaned Beth, wiping the spit off with the back of her hand.

"Good." said Gran, pulling out an old white leather bible from a pocket of her skirt and setting it on the little tray above the stool. "Now, where is your rosary?"

"I don't know." mumbled Beth, rolling over and sitting up in bed.

Gran looked at her again, then dug into another pocket of her skirt.

"Well, never mind. You can use mine." she said, handing Beth the black strand of beads.

"I don't want to study tonight." Beth said, laying back down and pulling the covers over her head.

"Bethany, you've been sleeping for hours." said Gran, walking to the bed. "It's time to get up. I picked out a special prayer for you tonight. St. Michael's Plea for Assistance."

"Not now." she groaned.

"Bethany, this is not an option." she said, brows bent. "As long as you live in my house, you will live–"

The sound of someone pounding on the front door drifted up through the floor.

"Who could that be?" said Gran, heading to the door. She stopped just before she reached for the knob and turned to Beth. "Stay here and start your prayer."

The anger she had felt before she fell asleep bubbled back up in her chest. Rolling out of bed, she followed Gran out of the room, the rosary clutched in her fist.

"I told you I don't want to study!" she shouted as she stomped down the steps, her father's picture rattled as she passed.

Gran turned to her at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes wide.

"Bethany!" Her blue-veined hand gripped the dark banister. "Don't start this now. Someone's here!"

The person keep pounding, paused, then pounded again.

"Go back to bed." said Gran, turning her back to Beth and walking to the door.

The anger inside her gut boiled over and spilled out her mouth and arms.

"No!" she yelled and threw the rosary at Gran, hitting her square in the back. The strand of beads fell to the floor and shattered, then fell off the string and rolled out in every direction. The beads made a strange sound like rain tapping on a tin roof.

Gran reached around and touched the place where the rosary had hit her. Slowly she turned to Beth, her face twisted in fury.

"You ungrateful little witch!" she yelled, looking as though she would haul up and smack her for real.

"What are you going to do about it, you stupid old bitch!" Beth yelled back.

"Excuse me ladies." a deep voice spoke.

Both her and Gran turned.

A middle-aged policeman stood behind the half-open door.

"I hope you don't mind." he said. "The door was unlocked. May I please speak to Ms. Bernadette Bancroft?"

Gran, with an obvious effort, turned to the cop, her face flushed.

"I'm Bernadette, mister. . . . ?" she asked, swaying slightly as she walked over to them.

"Officer John Felix." he said, his baggy bloodhound eyes darting from Beth to Gran. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"Bethany." said Gran softly, deadly, without looking at her. "Please go to your room."

She didn't know what to do. Half of her wanted to stay, but she didn't know what Gran would do if she embarrassed her in front of a cop. So she turned away and walked slowly back up the stairs, but didn't go to her room. She waited until she heard them talking again then she crouched down under her father's picture and crept toward the railing. If she turned her head a little she could see them talking from the hallway.

"What is it officer?" Gran asked, arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Ms." he said taking off his black hat and cradling it in his hands. "But we found your daughter-in-law's body this afternoon."

She watched as Gran's arms slowly fell to her sides then looked down at the ground below the stairs.

One black bead rolled by.

Another chapter done. In case any of you were wondering, I've changed the summary (with the approval of my muse) and took out the Mary-Sue part of it. Everyone says this isn't a Sue and my muse pointed out that I would probably get more readers if I did. Hope you all like it. Review and tell me what you guys think of this story. Reviews make go 'round.

Review Response:

To Absolute Omega: You are the only one I have to respond to since some ungrateful readers won't take the time to review. Glad to hear you're back! I know it's hard to not continue writing your fic. Like giving birth, one you start you can't stop. Hope you liked this chap and hope to hear from ya. Lo ;)


	6. Ave Maria

Hey. I'm surprised by how fast I wrote this and hope it's not too rough. I took ya'lls advice and decided to lighten up the story a little. Hope you all enjoy my sense of humor or at least find it funny. This chapter had to be cut in half. I wanted to get it done before the weekend was through, and the chapter keep running longer and longer, so I saved the rest of it for number seven. So if anything sounds confusing, it will all be answered in chapter seven. Enjoy!

After the Fall: Chapter Six, 'Ave Maria'

Rated: PG-13, for some very bad curse words.

Rain tapped on the limousine's window, and Beth watched it slide down the glass, pooling with other drops.

"We'll be at the cemetery soon, ladies." said the driver. The most Beth saw of him was the back of his dark head.

"Thank you." said Gran, sitting next to her.

Gran had been very busy the past couple of days and the stress was starting to show. The bags under her eyes had extended and darkened, her usually sleek curls had frazzled into long frizz. She had been on the phone nonstop since the cop had left. She'd called the morgue, the funeral homes, then family and friends. She'd made all the arrangements, paid all the expenses; the coffin, the flowers, and the plane tickets.

Beth's very distant family was being flown in from New Orleans which she didn't understand. Most of the people had never met Mom and knew very little about her, but Gran insisted all the family should be here.

So once they had past the black wrought iron gates of the Eternal Peace Cemetery, she scanned across the green field for her family.

The car drove down the road through the tombstones, all lined up like soldiers. Gran redid her bun and straightened her black dress.

"There they are." she sighed, pulling at her tinsel hair.

A white tent had been rigged up in the middle of the field. Trucks and small cars were parked in a half circle around it and a gaggle of people could be seen huddled under it. Through the watery haze, Beth saw her mother's coffin positioned over her grave, its mahogany wood gleaming.

The limo parked next to a green '70 Ford pickup. The driver wobbled out and opened the door for them. Both she and Gran jogged to the tent to get out of the rain.

White lawn chairs were set up in four long lines around the grave, like rows in a movie theater. Some people sat in the chairs while others mingled around on the grass.

The woman closest to them stood and walked over. Her hair was made frizzy and white by too many years of bleach. Her skin was tanned to a rough bronze and she wore a sleeveless black slip dress and a fringed black shawl draped over her shoulders.

"Bernie, sweetheart." she said, wrapping her long arms around Gran (who looked slightly disgruntled at being called 'Bernie'). "How are you?"

"Fine, Vivian." she said, pulling away. "Just fine. Yourself?"

"We're good." she said in her deep smoky voice, adjusting her shawl. "Jack's got new work on a crawfishin' boat and Livie just graduated from middle school."

Bethany saw Vivian's daughter, her second cousin, Olivia sitting way back in a corner with another girl. Olivia was a tall, thin girl with lanky limbs, tan skin, and long dirty dishwater blond hair. She had never seen the other girl before. They both talked to each other, like conspirators, watching the adults mingle around.

"And how are you holdin' up, bebe?" Vivian asked.

Beth jumped, startled.

"Um. I'm good." she said, staring down at the wet grass. Her insides quivering.

"Oh, you poor girl. Come here." she said, grabbing her by the shoulders and hugging her. Vivi's heavy perfume made her eyes water and her breathing difficult. Luckily she didn't have to hold her long.

"Betty Bancroft!" said a deep wheezy voice from behind Vivi.

Uncle (even though he was really her second or third cousin) Buck sat a few chairs down the row. He wore a white button down shirt with pit-stains, a black string-tie, and a worn felt cowboy hat (black for the occasion). His beer gut stuck out like a beach ball under his shirt and for some strange reason he wore sunglass even though it was a gray, cloudy day.

"You git over here, girl! Let me git a good look at ya." he said, banging his walking stick on the seat next to him.

"Yes, sir." replied Beth, louder than she would've because of his hearing loss. Weaving through the chairs, she made it over to him. She sat and wondered if the chair could hold her up.

"Last time I saw ya, ya were no higher than my knees. Well look at ya now, turning into a pretty young belle." he said, smiling. His teeth were shiny and beige. When he laughed, you could see the dark brown, rotted back teeth.

"Uncle Buck, you have cataracts." said Beth.

"Bullshit." he said, taking a swig of a black bottle he kept at his side. "What do dem doctors know? I'm as healthy as a got-damned horse!"

Beth couldn't help it, she laughed. "Yeah, a dead horse."

"Now, ya better watch yaself, young lady." he said, smiling the whole time. "Ya ain't too old fer me ta put'cha over my knee."

Beth just smiled, not really knowing what to say. She looked out at the people.

Jack, Vivi's husband was standing by the tent pole with some guy, talking about how much crawfish they'd pulled in this season. A little girl, Vivi's youngest daughter, sat on the grass and played with a Barbie doll. A little boy, Vivi's too, was crouched over a dead mouse poking at it with a twig.

From where she sat, Beth had a perfect view of Mom's coffin. The sight hit her like a punch in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. She could feel the tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. Mom was in there.

"Ya okay, babydoll?" Uncle Buck asked, looking at her through the tinted lenses.

"I'll be fine, sir." she said.

"Enough with this 'sir' business." he said, taking another swig. "Ya just call me 'Uncle' from now on, ya hear me?"

"Yes, Uncle." she said, rubbing her hands. "Um. Can I ask you something?"

"Well, ya sure as hell can, babydoll." he said, propping his stiff leg up on the chair in front of him. "What is it?"

"Why are you wearing sunglasses, it raining for Christ's sake?"

Uncle Buck laughed a deep smoky chuckle that eventually turned into a ragged coughing jag.

"Well, sweetness." he said, pulling out his red cough rag. "Me, Jack, and his two buddies over there, Bill and John, went on over to Ralph's Bar last night and let's just say we got a little too carried away."

"Then what's that you're drinking?" she asked, pointing at the bottle in his hand.

"Oh this? Just a lil' hair o' the dog." he laughed, then coughed into his rag. When he had recovered, he turned back to her. "Why don't ya go on over to Livie and her friend over there? Ya're too young ta be hangin' with an old sumbitch like me."

"Okay." she said getting up from the chair. "See ya later, Uncle Buck."

She wove back through the chairs and out from under the tent, (it had stopped raining and was just cold). Looking over at the people, she studied the ones she'd never seen before.

Three ladies surrounded Vivi and Gran, two looked to be sisters with very dark hair and pale skin, the other one was short and mousy. Vivi and the two sisters were talking animatedly to Gran, all at once. Gran kept looking at each of them, trying to figure out which one to listen to. The mousy one sat in a chair and twiddled her thumbs, head down.

Gran shifted her weight in the chair and accidently knocked over her purse. Leaning over to grab it, she did the funniest thing Beth had ever seen her do.

She farted. A short, tight, poof of gastric wind that nearly everyone heard. The ladies sitting next to her all were silent, then they all busted out laughing and pinching their noses. Jack and his buddies were chuckling into their beer. Uncle Buck was banging his walking stick and laughing so hard he ended up coughing for five whole minutes. The two girls were whispering snide remakes into each other's ears between their laughter. Even the mousy old lady cracked a grin.

Gran's face was deathly pale, except for her cheeks which matched the red roses on the coffin. She sat back in her chair and stared determinedly at the ground while the other's laughter bubbled around her.

Beth thought she'd pulled a stomach muscle from trying not to laugh. Wondering what to do while they waited for the priest to show up, she looked around. The girls had gotten up from their chairs and looked like they were going to wonder off. At first Beth had no intention of going, but then she saw Mom's coffin and jogged to catch up with them.

"Hey, wait up." she called as she followed them out of the tent. Olivia didn't turn around but her friend did.

"Hi." said the girl, her short auburn hair brushed the top of her pale shoulders. Her face was soft and plump even though the rest of her body was rail thin.

"Hi." panted Beth. They both had stopped at the bottom of a steep hill. Olivia turned to Beth and glared at her red cheeks and sweaty face.

They both wore short, sleeveless black dresses, Olivia's had tiny seed pearls sewn into the shape of roses, the other girl's was covered in a floral black lace print. Both wore sheer black tights and chunky sandles.

Seeing how pretty the other girls were dressed made Beth look down at her own outfit. Since all of her other clothes were either back in Kentucky or at the bottom of Lake Michigan, Gran had to go and buy her some new stuff. She had bought this especially for the funeral. Beth wore a long black wool dress with long sleeves and a high neck. The dress itched and clung to her body making every fat-roll stand out.

"Hey." said Olivia crossing her arms over her chest, looking at the ground.

"Hi." repeated Beth.

"What do you want?" asked Liv, glancing at her then back to the ground.

"I. . . . I was just wondering if I could hang out with you guys?"

Both of them glanced at each other. Unsure.

"Um . . . "said Liv. "Yeah, I guess you can."

"We were just going to the top of the hill." said the redhead, cracking a smile. "We had to get away from that stink bomb the old lady dropped."

Beth laughed. "Yeah, that was pretty bad."

The three of them began to tromp up the hill. The last thing Beth heard was the soft rumble of the men talking, Uncle Buck's coughs, and Vivi yelling at her kids.

"Bernard! Quit chasing your sister with that dead rat!" she heard as they finally reached the top of the hill, clutching a stitch in her side.

The top of the hill was bare except for one short, spindly tree. While the rest of the trees in the cemetery were leafy and green, this one was completely bare. Its black branches stretched out and snapped in the wind.

"So. . . . "said Liv, leaning back against the tree, her arms still crossed.

"We're sorry about your mama?" said the redhead, softly.

"Thanks." Beth replied, not knowing what to say. "What's your name?"

"Oh!" said the redhead, surprised. "My name's Chastity. I'm Liv's friend. Mama said I could fly up here with her this summer."

"How do you like it here?" she asked, sitting on the grass, not caring that it was wet.

"Oh, it's fine. A little cold." she said, casually tapping her foot.

"Anyone want a cig?" asked Liv, pulling out a red and white Marlboro pack.

"Thanks." said Chastity, taking the pack and shaking one out. "I've been dying for one all day." Then she saw Beth looking. "Ya want one?"

"Uh. . . . Sure." said Beth, grabbing one and holding it between her fingers like she'd seen on TV.

"Here." said Liv, tossing a matchbook over to Beth, who tore one off. Once she had struck the match, the three of them crouched down and lit all of their cigarettes at once.

Liv leaned back against the tree and took a deep pull, held her breath, then coughed a little (smoke shooting out of her nose). Chastity took tiny, fast puffs and tried to make a smoke ring.

"Well, aren't you gonna smoke your's?" asked Liv, eyeing the gray ash at the end of Beth's cigarette.

"Yeah." she said, putting the cigarette to her mouth and sucking. Instantly her throat became dry, so she blew out all the filmy smoke.

"Not like that." said Chastity, laughing. "You're supposed to inhale."

"Haven't you ever smoked before?" asked Liv, eyeing her shrewdly.

"Yes, of course I have." Beth lied. "Just not in a while, is all."

"Well, you're supposed to swallow the smoke."

Beth took another pull that burned her throat, swallowing quickly, holding her breath. Then her lungs expanded, throwing her into a coughing fit.

"That's it." Chastity laughed.

"Does that always happen?" asked Beth, trying to hold back another cough.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it." she said, sitting next to her.

Liv titled her head back and moaned as she exhaled, smoke twirling in the air.

"God I hate this place!" she said, rubbing her arms and shivering. "It's so fuckin' cold!"

"I know." said Beth.

They didn't talk for a while. Liv would occasionally look down the hill to make sure none of the adults could see them smoking. The air smelled of burnt tobacco and sulfur.

"That coffin sure is pretty." said Chastity, trying to make small talk, pulling at a hole in her tights.

"Did ya'll buy it?" asked Liv.

Feeling slightly giddy from the cigarette Beth decided to cut loose.

"Are you kidding? We're not that rich." she said, exhaling through her nose. "We rented it."

"What?" asked Liv, shocked.

Chastity, who had just taken another drag, laughed and coughed.

"Joke. Just a joke." said Beth, patting the ash onto the grass.

"Oh." said Liv.

"So. . . . You from New Orleans too?" she asked Chastity.

"Yep, from the good state of L_oo_isiana." she said, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"Why do ya'll say it like that? L_oo_isiana and New '_Au_lens?" Beth asked.

"Because that's how it comes out when you've got five Bourbons in your gut and a cigarette in your mouth." said Liv, crushing the butt into the tree.

Beth chuckled, the tobacco was making her lightheaded.

"God, ya'll are rednecks." she said. "And I hardly ever get to say that."

"Shut up, fat bitch." said Liv, glaring at her with bloodshot eyes.

"Don't you have a brother you should be dating?" mumbled Beth, tossing the cigarette butt down the hill without putting it out, not caring if it caught fire.

She could tell Liv was about to say something particularly rude, but Aunt Vivi's voice beat her to it.

"Come on girls!" she called from under the tent. "The priest just pulled up!"

"Coming, Mrs. Taggert!" Chastity called, looking from Liv to Beth.

Silently they all got up and walked back down the hill. Stumbling slightly, Beth accidently bumped into Liv.

"Go to hell." she whispered, jerking away.

"Go to a trailer." Beth said.

While Liv and Chastity went over to the third row with Vivi, Beth had to sit front and center, next to Gran.

A tall thin man with even thinner colorless hair walked behind the coffin. He wore a long black robe with a white collar.

"That's Ft. Stonewall." Gran whispered in her ear. "He's absolutely wonderful."

The man pulled out a worn black bible with red edges on the pages.

"We are here today to celebrate the life and faith of Zelda Marie Bancroft." he began in a droning voice. Vivi's younger daughter fidgeted in her mother's lap, whining.

"Shhh, Jezie, shhh."

The mousy lady sat near the end of the row. On the ground next to her was a CD player. She turned it on and 'Ave Maria' filled the air. Its haunting choir rang through the trees.

"Our Lord Jesus Christ said in John 19:19, 'If you were of the world, the world would love its own, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you.' As such, the Lord chose Zelda out of this world to serve at His awesome side."

_Ave Maria, Gratia Plena._

Beth's mind drifted, and the priest's droning faded. She looked around, anything but the coffin.

_Ave, Ave, dominus._

Over by the cars, two people stood by the limo, talking to each other. What was weirder, they were both staring straight at her. True she was used to people staring at her because of her weight but, they were in a cemetery, there was plenty other things to look at.

_Dominus tecum, Benedicta tu in mulieribus._

"Bethany!" whispered Gran, standing up.

"What?" she whispered back.

"It time to finish." she said walking over to the coffin.

_Ventris tuae, Jesus._

Beth stood up with Gran and inched to the coffin. Two dozen red roses lay on the lid of the closed coffin. Next to it two small piles of dirt were waiting for them.

_Mater Dei._

"In the Holy Mother's name we deliver Zelda Bancroft back into Her loving embrace. May She bless her and keep her. In Jesus' name, Amen."

_Ora pro nobis._

Bill and John grabbed the ropes that supported the coffin and slowly lowered it into the grave.

_Nunc et in hora mortis._

Beth couldn't look. She stared down at the dirt. Mom was in that box and they were going to put six feet of dirt on top of her. Her hands shook, she tried not to let the memories rush in. Mom at Dad's funeral, how she had held her hand the whole time. Beth half felt like holding Gran's hand but the urge was crushed instantly. She and Gran bent down, (some people chocked back laughter, remembering Gran's little accident), and grabbed a fistful of dirt. Looking at the coffin for the last time, she let the dirt fall through her hands slowly and then brushed it off on her dress.

_Et in hora mortis nostrae._

"Now," said the priest. "Let us retire to the Sanford's Lounge."

Everyone got up from their seats and started heading back to their cars. Gran glanced at the coffin, made the sign of the cross, then started walking away.

Beth was left alone for a brief moment. This was the last time she would ever be around her mom. "Bye mama." she whispered, knowing Mom couldn't hear her. "I love you. Goodbye."

With that she turned and followed Gran back into the limo.

_Ave Maria._

Good God, that took a lot of work. But it was worth it! Just so you know, I've never been to a funeral before (knock wood) so I had to pull what I know from movies and TV. Hope to get more reviews, but if I don't, it won't stop me. Will be glad to hear from you guys. See ya soon.

Review Response:

To mattb3671: Beth and Blob? Ughhh 0.0 That is a bad mental image. Glad you like the story though. Hope you like the comic relief. And I haven't gotten the chance to ready any of your work (what with writing and all) but it's #1 on my to-do list. So be on the lookout for my review. Nice to hear from ya. ;)

To DreamerLady (a.k.a. my Muse): Sorry I gave you such an ego. I've created a monster! Hope you got a few more laughs outta this one. Talk to ya when ya get back. Your Writer-person. ;)

To Absolute Omega: blushes I never knew ya cared. It's so nice to know someone likes my descriptions, even though the whole 'sorrel-eye' thing was a flop. And I'm glad you like Gran, she is one of my faves. Yay! You're back! I've been waiting for frickin' ever! Hope to read your update soon. ;) P.S. Did you see, I put your name in the fic?

To Kit: Thank you so much. You don't know how unsure I was before I got your review (just ask my muse). I tried my hardest not to make Beth a Sue and it's nice to know the work paid off. This is my first published fic ever and it's weird knowing people adore it. I'm so used to being one of the adoring reviewers. It's kinda nice having my own. Hope you keep reading. ;)

To Cygna Vamp: Yes I have read OthP (many, many times) and that's is where I got the reaction from. Instead of the usual gloomy-doomy Sue reaction, I thought Beth would be more pissed off than sad. I had heard of Carrie but only just recently. You're right, Beth an her are a lot alike. I will change the sorrel eye thing, my excuse is that it was the first chapter and I have learned so much since then. From now on I will use simple words. Hope you keep reading and reviewing. Lo ;)


	7. Family Ties

Hey, everyone. Sorry for making you wait so long for this chapter. I was waiting for a weekend to roll around so I could get the optimal amount of readers. So, read, review and give me any advice, (I need as much as I can get). Has anyone heard any news about that new X-Men movie? Anyway, enjoy. P.S. Bush and Dick, four more years!

After the Fall: Chapter Seven, 'Family Ties'.

By: LolitaRed

Rated: PG-13, for more dagum dirty words.

Sanford's Lounge was the best low-budget lounge in Milwaukee. It was dimly lit by candles and chandeliers. Gran had reserved a big, circular room for their party. A short buffet was piled with the food Vivi and the family had brought. Several small, round tables were set up in the room, covered in black plastic tablecloths and two long white candles stood on each table.

Beth sat at the back table at the edge of the room, next to a window. In front of her was a plate piled with food. Dirty rice, a slice of fig bread, an orange muffin, a couple of Uncle Bucks rum balls, and some of Vivi's special Cajun stir-fry. She sat and shoveled the food in, picking out the green peppers.

Occasionally she'd look up and watch her cousins. Uncle Buck was laughing with Jack and his buddies over homemade Kahlua that they hid in black bottles. Vivi and the dark sisters were serving people at the buffet, chirping happily to one another. Liv and Chastity were at their own private table, nibbling on muffins. Sometimes Beth would catch them watching her eat.

Someone had highjacked the mousy-lady's CD player and filled it with twangy, country metal music.

_Free Bird_ had just started as Gran came to her table, carrying a plate, and sitting opposite her.

"I can't believe them." she said, glaring at others. "This is a funeral dinner, for goodness sake, not some bar room hoe-down."

"Yeah," said Beth, mouth full of brown rice and crawfish. "Makes me wish your house had wheels under it."

Gran shuddered and picked at her plate, which Beth noticed, wasn't much to pick at. While her plate was so full that shrimp fell off the edge, Gran's was almost empty. A single helping of potato salad was plopped in the middle of her plate.

"Who made the salad?" asked Beth, swallowing.

"Ruth did." said Gran, poking a potato chunk with her fork. "She's a good friend of mine from church."

Beth looked over at the buffet. The mousy woman, Ruth, stood at the end of the table next to a big bowl of potato salad. The little kids dished up some rice and crawfish, but when they got to Ruth's salad they grimaced and walked back to their table. Vivi and the sisters looked down at the plain salad and shook their heads.

"Miss Ruth, darlin'." said Vivi, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You salad is good I'm sure, but where is the color? Where's the spice?"

"This is my grandmother's recipe." said Ruth, faintly, looking down at her creamy, gray salad.

"How dare she?!" whispered Gran, sounding a lot like an angry wasp. "Insulting that poor woman's cooking just because it's not as 'spicy' as theirs." Her hands gripped the table, knuckles turning white. "Their food is awful. All those spices can't be good for the stomach."

Beth sat, eyebrows raised, slowly chewing on a rum ball.

"Calm down Gran," she said looking back at her food. "We can only afford one funeral today."

"What's wrong with you?" asked Gran, setting her fork down on her plate with a clatter.

"What?" asked Beth softly.

"This is your mother's funeral and your sitting here cracking jokes." she said, staring at her sternly.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, taking a savage bite out of her muffin. "Sit with a steel pole up my ass like you?"

"Bethany! Don't you ever talk to me like that!" she said, banging a fist on the table and almost knocking over one of the candles. People nearby turned and watched them.

Chest hot and tight, Beth decided it was better to make peace with Gran, for now.

"I'm sorry." she said, tugging at the napkin in her lap. "I guess I'm not handling this very well."

"Did you ever stop to think about what you would do if Zelda died?" asked Gran before taking a sip of red wine. "All girls should have some kind of plan, in case of a crisis. I thought you of all people would've had a plan."

"I plotted Mom's death, I never planned it." she mumbled. Gran's lips pursed. "Sorry. No more jokes, I promise."

Gran went back to picking at her food. Beth looked around. Ruth was sitting near the buffet, wrapping up the salad bowl in saran wrap. Her eyes were shinny and wet.

"I better go talk to her." said Gran getting up.

"Bye." said Beth, watching Gran walk over to her and pat her back.

Minutes flew by, full of tension, laughter, and music. Beth finished her food in under fifteen minutes and was left sitting with an empty plate, looking out the window.

The sky was a soft silvery gray. No blue showed. The trees seemed so green and dark compared to all that paleness. Johnny Cash's _Ring of Fire_ began.

"Hey, babydoll." said Uncle Buck, swaggering over to her table. "What 'cha doin'?"

"Nothin'." she said, looking down at her twiddling fingers.

He sat, rather awkwardly, in Gran's seat. He didn't say anything at first, just looked out at his family, taking swigs off of his black bottle.

Beth looked out the window. She didn't really feel like talking.

"How ya holdin' up?" his gruff voice asked as he scooted the chair closer to her, clumsily. She could tell he was drunk, not shit-faced, just a little tipsy.

"I'm okay." she said, watching her chipped nail polish disappear under the clean white linen.

"You're a tough one, babydoll." he said, placing a bulging arm around her shoulders. "I knew it when you was a kid. Why, you was the only one that would help me shoo away dem rattlers in the summer. You're made outta somethin' fearless."

"I'm not so sure about that." she said, throat tight. This was a lot more different than scaring snakes.

"Aw. Don't you worry." he said giving her a little shake. "You'll find your footin' and ride it out. Here, drink to your mama."

He hid the bottle under the table and passed it to her.

"Are you sure?" she asked, making sure no one was watching.

"Hell yeah!" he said, as she took the bottle. "Just don't tell your grandma or Vivi. They'd skin me alive if they knew I slipped ya some liquor."

She crouched as low as she could, Uncle Buck's bulk hiding her from view, and took a swig. The taste of vodka and coffee filled her mouth and made her pull a face.

"Little strong, ain't it?" he chuckled.

"Yeah." gagged Beth, passing the bottle back to him.

"I better get goin'." he said, taking a swig himself. "I think Vivi might have seen ya."

Beth looked around. Sure enough, Vivi stood a few tables away talking to one of the sisters, glancing at Uncle Buck out of the corners of her eyes. He stood, wobbling slightly, and walked over to her.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doin', Buck?" hissed Vivi, crossing her arms. "Why are you letting that poor child drink?"

Uncle Buck sat himself down in another seat, tipping his hat over his eyes and propping his boot-clad feet on the table.

"Now, Vivi, don't be throwin' yerself a tissy." he said. "It was only one sip and the girl looked like she needed it. Besides, it's all over and done with so no point in yellin' at me now."

"I swear," she said, brushing back a lock of white frizz. "I don't know what ta do with you."

Beth looked back at the window. Two people were getting out of a black Saturn in the parking lot. It took her a few seconds to realize it was the same two people from the cemetery.

The woman was pretty, in a Betty Rubble kind of way. Her short black hair bobbed and bounced as she hopped over the yellow parking block. The man looked as though he would have been handsome, if he cut his hair and ate more. His cheekbones stuck out like blades in his haggard, pale face, and the unkept hair on his head was starting to gray.

She watched them both as they wove through the parking lot and entered the lounge. Who were they? Why were they at the funeral? Why were they here now? Deciding that they must have been some other distant relation, Beth went back to looking out at the sky.

A few minutes later, she saw them enter their circle room. The girl stood out awkwardly in her bright blue dress, the color of summer skies. They both stood next to each other and whispered. The man craned his neck, looking around the room. He spotted her, their eyes met, then both him and Mrs. Rubble walked to her table.

"Hello," said the man, holding out his hand. "Are you Bethany Bancroft?"

"Yeah." she said, shaking his frail hand lightly. He smiled, which was more like a forced stretching of facial muscles.

"My name is William Powell, and this is Lily Sharp." he said, gesturing to the girl. "We read in the paper about your mother's funeral."

Oh, great.

"We would like to talk to you, if it's not too much trouble." said Lily, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand.

"About what?" asked Beth. Then remembering her manners, added, "Would you like to sit down?"

Lily took Gran's seat while Will stole a chair from a different table. Gran was over at the other end of the room, sitting and talking to Ruth.

"We'd like to talk about the crash." said Lily, rubbing her neck again.

"Um . . . " she said.

God, she didn't want to talk about that. Anything but that.

"You see," said Will, tracing the edge of the table with his fingers. "We. . . . lost our loved ones in that crash too."

A chill raced up her spine.

"My father died in the crash." said Lily, sighing deeply. "And William here lost his wife and six-year-old daughter."

The chill turned to a wave, a rolling wave of tension. The memory of an old man, a mother and her little girl resurfaced. A bitter shard of irony sliced at her chest. Those people were their family.

"I'm so sorry for your loss." she said to the both of them.

They thanked her, in the same hollow, dead way that Beth had thanked other people. Something said more for politeness than gratitude.

"What we'd like to know is, What happened?" said Lily. Will had remained silent, jaw

clenched and eyes watering. The calm before the storm. "The police won't give us a straight answer. Keep saying it was a 'freak, technical malfunction'. We thought, maybe you knew what really happened."

Breathe. In and out. The room shifted and swivelled. What could she possibly tell these people? That she caused the crash? That her fucked up mind had caused the people they loved to go plummeting into the lake? _She_ didn't even know how she caused the crash. How could she explain it? Lie. Telling them short, vague, polite lies was the only way she could spare them.

"I'm sorry. Really I am. But I don't know what happened either." she said. A lie disguised in a half-truth. "I remember the plane falling, but that's about it. I passed out and can't really remember very much." She looked down at the floor, purposely staring so her eyes would water. Anything to get them to shut up.

"I'm sorry." said Lily. "you're so brave. You shouldn't have to be bothered with this right now." Beth felt like shit. A two-hundred pound, living, breathing, pile of shit.

"We'll go." said Will, getting up. The candlelight made his face more haggard than ever. "It was nice meeting you, Bethany."

"We'll be at the Sunrise Hotel if you want to reach us." she said pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. "Call us if you'd like to talk or something. Come here."

Beth stood up and hugged the woman. She smelled sweet but kind of sour, like she hadn't bathed in a while. After they had pulled away from each other, she handed Beth the card with the phone number. Beth knew she'd never use it.

She shook Will's hand again, said all the polite things she could say, and watched them walk back out of the room. Sitting down again, she felt the dark, thick muck roll and heave around her heart.

"Who were they?"

Her head shot up. Gran stood, hand gripping the back of her chair, black eye makeup smeared and splotched. She couldn't answer. Polite lies.

"I don't know."

There. Well, I don't really know what to put here, except the usually, 'review, hope you liked it, yadda yadda yadda'. So I'll just say this. Next chapter will probably be up next week, but don't hold your breath. Bush and Dick, four more years!!!!!!!

Review Response:

To Cygna Vamp: Thank you for reviewing and thanks for the suggestions, even though I had planned on most of them happening already. About Xavier counseling Beth for her overeating, obviously she needs to be counseled for more than just overeating. In fact, that's the least of her problems. Thanks for the suggestion though, I'm sure he must have a degree of psychology or know enough to counsel her. Talk to ya soon.

To DreamerLady: Here is the chap, finally! Hope it was worth all the wait. Sorry 'bout the missing ego, damn that speed demon! Email me or something after you read this. I must, must, MUST know what you think! Bye, beyatch!

To Absolute Omega: Sorry 'bout the name thing. It was very subtle. I snuck it in when Gran talks about the priest, saying "he's _absolutely_ wonderful". Subtle, but I chose that word especially for you. As stated before, I have never (1. Been to a funeral. (2. Smoked cigarettes. So I had to make up both. I will make corrections though, so could you please tell me what does smoking a cig feel like? Glad you liked the humor. Poor, poor Gran. See ya. ;)


	8. Road Kill

Hey, beyatchs! Here's the next chappy. You should all bow down to me because I busted my ass off to get this done quickly. Ungratefuls! I had to boost the rating because of some freaky situations and for my ever present bad mouth. Enjoy the story!

After the Fall: Chapter Eight, "Road Kill".

By: LolitaRed

Rated: R, for language and adult content.

"I told you! I'm not praying tonight!"

"Betha-"

Gran's voice was blocked out by the slamming door. Stomping over to the bed, she threw down the covers and crawled in. She pulled the covers up to her chin and tried to get comfortable. Her chest heaved up and down and her head pulsated.

It had been six days since the funeral. All the family had flown back to their bayou, leaving her in this crumbling brick house.

Breathing deeply, she tried to stay calm, to not knock anything over. The sour, pumpkin- like stench of sweat and unwashed skin filled her nostrils. Her whole bedroom stank. She hadn't taken a shower since Mom's funeral, and stayed up in her room all day, every day. Gran had tried to get her out, to pull weeds, or go shopping, but Beth refused to go. She only left her room to eat or use the bathroom. The rest of the time she would sleep or stare out the window.

She liked looking out over the fields. The bright greens and golds were the only things that gave her an ounce of pleasure. But even they didn't help much. She was still stuck here, in this house. In this body. In this life.

Turning over, Beth looked out the window again. The sun was starting to set, the sky was a pale yellow with pink and orange clouds streaking across it. Mom would have loved it.

Her insides sunk a little, like they did whenever she thought about Mom. She fought the pain, tried to push it away, and think of something else. There was nothing else to think about. Her future? What future? Spending the summer with Gran, then going to some damned Catholic school for girls? What kind of college or job would want a freak like her? What kind of guy would want her, (even with her stunning good-looks). She couldn't think about the future, or the present, and certainly not about the past.

For a couple of minutes, she laid there. Listening to the house creak, and her own pounding pulse. Then Gran's footsteps began coming closer and closer. They stopped just outside her door.

"Bethany?" she asked, voice soft. "May I come in?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

"What do you want?" Beth asked, burying herself under the blankets. "I already told you I don't want to pray."

She heard Gran walk over to her, and felt her weight on the bed.

"Look at me." she said.

Beth turned over. Gran sat there in her prim black dress, hands on her knees, staring back at Beth.

"What?" Beth asked, waiting.

Gran sighed, looking down.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take, Bethany." she said, solemnly. "It's only been two weeks and I've already . . . "

Given up hope? Gone insane? Have the urge to kill like the voices in your head tell you to?

"Why can't you just do what I ask?" she pleaded, the bags under her eyes illuminated by the sunset. "How do you expect to get to heaven if you don't pray?"

"I don't give a shit about heaven." she mumbled.

"Don't start." Gran said, hands balled into fists. "I've had enough of your mouth. Each curse word you say is another step down on the stairway to God."

"I don't care!" she said, louder; sickened by the stupid phrases she used.

"Yes you do." she said, wrapping an arm around her massive back. "I know it doesn't feel like it now, but God feels your pain and He'll help you through this."

Beth sat up and tossed Gran's arm off of her. She couldn't take it anymore.

"Fuck God!" she screamed into the old woman's face. Which earned her a slap across the cheek.

Now this was a shock. Gran, despite her many threats, had never hit Beth before, and Lord knows Beth has given her plenty of reasons to.

Her cheek stung, and the skin below her eye twitched.

"Get out!" shouted Gran, her face red and twisted in rage. "Get out of my house! I can't take it anymore!" As she screamed, Beth rolled out of bed. She hurried to the closet and pulled on a black, wool sweater and her jeans. She went to the desk and grabbed any spare change she had.

After searching every drawer, she looked on the desktop. A crumbled piece of paper sat curled up next to the table lamp. She knew it was the address to that institute. Not knowing where she would go, Beth grabbed it and shoved it into her back pocket. Just as a last resort, she told herself.

Turning to the door, she looked back at Gran, who stood, red-faced and shaking.

"Don't look for me, 'cause I won't ever come back!" she yelled, grabbing her new coat and putting it on.

"I won't." hissed Gran. "Not after how you treated me, ungrateful bitch!"

"Fine!" she yelled, slamming the door again and running down stairs.

She entered the hallway, stormed out the front door and tore off down the street. Before she knew it, she was already three blocks into town. The lights of Gran's house could barely be seen behind the tall pine trees.

The sky was darkening. A cornflower blue stretched across the sky, bleeding into the pale yellow. It was still early, no stars were out.

Even though it was the beginning of summer, the air was chilly. Still Beth walked on.

She followed Main Street and walked along the sidewalks. The buildings changed from simple little shops to run-down apartments. Luckily, no one seemed to be around.

The streetlights lit up, bathing the cement in an eerie orange glow. The sharp breeze cut across her face and hands. Her legs were getting tired, and barely lifted off the ground, scuffing her feet against the rocks. Her shoes felt tight and hot. She must have walked for at least two miles now.

A couple of cars had driven by, carrying mostly old white people. Some were Hispanic and honked at her when they passed.

"Eh, grande bebe!" a fat man shouted, leaning out of the passenger side window. "Agitar el' para mi'!"

Beth had no idea what he said, but knew it couldn't have been good, so she edged closer to the buildings and walked faster. She didn't even look up when the guy and his buddy drove off, laughing.

The buildings were starting to disappear as she got to the far west of town. Feeling tired and sore, she sat on the sidewalk, under a streetlight and rested. Her feet were sweaty and ached. It hurt to bend her legs. Her eyes burned with sleep crust. She was tired way beneath her skin, deep into her bones, where no amount of sleep would help. She didn't know how it had happened. How she ended up like this. It had only been two weeks.

She didn't have the strength to walk for much longer. She needed a place to rest. Maybe a quiet spot in the woods, or an abandoned car. Thankfully, she found something better.

_Puerto_ was an open 24/7 truck stop at the edge of town. The bright neon red sigh flashed and blinked. There were no cars in the gas stations, and from what she could see, no customers were inside. Dragging herself up off the ground, Beth skidded across the street and walked into the store.

Inside, the bright fluorescent lights blinded her for a minute. The sound of 'muzak' filled the air. The whole place reeked of greasy food, oil, and car air fresheners. In front of the long aisles of various nick-knacks and junk foods, the counter stood.

A boy, about five years older than Beth sat on a stool and watched her. He was long and lanky, and pale and pimply, with thick, brown, greasy hair. He wore a ragged T-shirt under his work vest and had a single hoop earring in his right earlobe.

At the other end of the counter was an old man with balding hair and dark liverspots. This man didn't look at Beth, instead he was fast asleep on his stool, a frown plastered on his smug face.

"Can I help you?" asked the guy, looking down from a newspaper.

Startled, Beth squeaked out her answer.

"No, I just need to use the bathroom." she said, crossing her legs and jumping slightly to add to the act. "Where's it at?"

The guy reached for something under the counter and pulled out a long red piece of plastic with a key hooked to the end.

"It's down past the cold drinks." he said, tossing her the key and pointing to the other end of the store.

"Thank you." said Beth, turning around and hurrying to the restroom.

She unlocked the door and entered the dark room. Flipping the light switch, she headed to the mirror.

She didn't recognize the girl looking back at her. There were dark circles and red dots under her dull brown eyes. Hadn't they used to shine and glow a few months ago? Her once silky black hair hung greasy and lank against her back. Her skin was turning a sickly yellow color and looked ashy. She hadn't lost any weight that she knew of but her whole body seemed to sag and droop like a deflated balloon. She looked like she was a zombie, or she was sick. Or dying.

She turned away from the mirror and went into one of the stalls and sat on the toilet. Maybe she could lock the door and sleep here. Even if that worked, what about the next day? Would she go to some shelter? Get a job and live off the streets? The thought of her life like that sent a wave of cold sweat down her back. She couldn't go back to Gran's, not that she wanted to anyway.

"Are you okay in there?" the guy pounded on the door.

"Yeah!" she called, hurrying out of the stall and unlocking the door. "Here." She handed the key back. "I wanna buy some stuff before I leave."

A smile spread across his face. "Oh, okay." he said, letting her browse around the aisles. "We have some great nachos if your hungry."

She smiled back and continued browsing.

No matter what she looked at, she knew she couldn't buy it. With only a handful of change jingling in her pocket there wasn't much she could buy. There was only one option left, a five-finger discount.

Beth had never shoplifted in her life, but then again, she never had to either. It was a good thing for her that the one thing she knew she possessed was common sense and that was all one needed to successfully shoplift.

The first thing you'd have to do was buy something, it throws them off your track. Since she was truly thirsty from the over-two-mile walk, she decided to buy a soda. She picked out a 12-ounce bottle of generic grape soda, (the cheapest one), and walked back to the counter.

"I'd like this, please." she said, digging in her pockets for some quarters.

The guy rang her up. She caught the name tag on his vest. _James_ _Howlett_ stood out in bold black print.

"Would you like that in a sack?" he asked.

"Um. No." she said, reaching for her pop. "Would it be okay if I shopped some more." Never ask if you can 'look around' or 'browse', always say 'shop'. It lets them know you're going to buy something.

"Sure." he said, picking up his newspaper again.

She went back to the aisles. Hanged out by the ready to eat foods, acting like she might buy a hotdog or a paper bowl of nachos. Slowly and idly she edged back to the other aisles. She completely bypassed the bags of chips, (they would make way too much noise if she walked out with them). Instead she stuck with the candies. The chocolate bars in their tight wrappers would be perfect for easy sneaking. Looking back to make sure none of the two were looking, she quickly but stealthy shoved a Baby Ruth and Snickers bar into her pocket, then casually walked over to another aisle.

That's what she did for the first fifteen minutes. She'd pick up things, (a small wolf or moose statue, a bag of jerky), examine them carefully, then would put them back and move on. If she found something she thought she could sneak out, she slid it into her pocket. By the time fifteen minutes had passed, she had successfully hidden the candy bars, two sticks of Slim Jims, and a pair of beautiful pink Cowrie shell earrings she'd spotted in the small jewelry rack.

Just to make sure they wouldn't suspect her, she grabbed a box of Nerds from the candy aisle and went back to the counter to pay for them. In case something made a noise when she walked away she could blame it on the Nerds.

"Thank you." she said, smiling the most shy smile she could muster.

"Your welcome." he said, like he'd said it eight thousand times that day. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"What?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Is someone going to pick you up?" he asked, craning his neck to see out along the gas stations.

_Tears in Heaven_ started up in the little stereo behind the counter.

"Uh. My mom went to get . . . a hotel room." she lied, trying to maintain eye contact. "She said she'll pick me up in about a half-hour."

"Oh." he said, sitting back at his stool. "Well, you could sit down on that bench if you want."

He pointed to the chipped green bench at the end of the counter. Next to it a rack of magazines and cigarette lighters stood.

She sat down, her pop and Nerds at her side.

_Would you know my name,_

_If I saw you in heaven?_

_Would it be the same,_

_If I saw you in heaven?_

What was she doing? What's wrong with her? She had no home, no family, no money. And she was just sitting there with stolen junk in her pockets waiting for a mother who'd never come to pick her up.

_Would you hold my hand,_

_If I saw you in heaven?_

_Would you help me stand,_

_If I saw you in heaven?_

All she wanted was Mom. She wanted to go back to her house, to her old, bare life and stay. She wanted to know what Mom would think, what she would say if she could see her daughter now. She wanted to go to heaven and be with God, Jesus, and Mom. Why couldn't she go?

_Time can bring you down,_

_Time can bend your knees._

_Time can break your heart,_

_Have you begging please, begging please._

When she wiped her eyes with the back of her fist, she noticed something on the magazine rack. A copy of a Ladies Home Journal laid on top of the others, the same issue Mom had been reading, (she could see the nutmeg cookie recipe advertised on the cover).

"Are you okay?" asked James, looking up from his paper.

Sniffing slightly, she said, "Yeah. I'm fine. Just tired is all."

"Okay." he said, turning back to his paper.

That's when she saw it.

On the front page of the paper, a few columns to the right, was a picture of the man that had talked to her at Mom's funeral. The headline above it said:

William Powell found dead in his hotel room last night at 4:00 a.m. by a woman next door. Apparent cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the head, no doubt a suicide. Powell, father and husband to two passengers on the infamous SilverBird that crashed in Lake Michigan two weeks ago. . . .

Tears blurred her vision, she couldn't read the words anymore. Instead she looked out the glass door, out into the dark night. A lone Semi truck could barley be heard, blaring it's horn at something.

Poor Will. He'd lost his whole family, because of her. All the condolences and comfort of his friends didn't help, still he gave up and pulled that gun out of the drawer and put it to his temple, (or better yet, in his mouth). Had Lily been the woman that found him, dead on the floor, a big gapping void where his head used to be?

Something snapped in her mind, like the last puzzle piece being connected to the rest of the jigsaw. She knew what to do now. Will had shown her.

_Beyond the door,_

_There's peace I'm sure,_

_And I know there'll be no more,_

_Tears in Heaven._

"Hey. Where are you going?"

That was the last thing she heard as she stepped out of the store. The cold air chilled her body, but didn't stop her. She walked, fast, out past the gas station, out into the road. The headlights of the Semi flooding her vision, the horn blaring so loud it was deafening.

Whew. Well, what do ya'll think about that? Again, I had to split this chapter because it was SO long. The rest of it will be in #9. I know, I know, Logan's real name is James Howlett, (to those of you who didn't know, well now you do), I just couldn't think of a name for the kid so I used Logan's instead, since they never call him that in Evo. _Tears in Heaven_ is a very good song by Eric Clapton that I was listening to on the radio when writing and had to squeeze in. Hope it didn't hurt the story much. I guess that's about it, so bye. OH! I am in desperate need for a beta reader. So, would anyone mind being mine? Review if ya want the job.

Review Response:

To matt: So sorry I didn't get your response in the last chap, I had already written the chap before I got your review. That's why I give you top billing in this chap's response. Don't worry, the story will speed up from here on out, now that the main funeral stuff is over with. Can't wait to hear from you. ;)

To Omega: God that was weird. I'm petrified of ghosts and stuff so that would've scared the hell outta me. Thanks again for the advice. Email me, beyatch! ;)

To DreamerLady a.k.a. my neglecting muse: First of all, I was going to instant message you last night and tell you I finished the chap but you were too frickin busy with your other little pals to talk to me so :P Just kidding. Email me sometime and tell what ya think. Bye, beyatch!

To Rustic Dragonfly: Thank you so much for reviewing! I rarely get reviews from people other than my regulars, (who I love deeply!). Glad you think my story's good. I know most OC fics are the 'flash in the pan' type. And you're right, that was Beth's first cig, she just wanted to fit in. Hope you like this chap. Bye. ;)

To Chiara: Glad you like Beth. Most OC's are so annoying, aren't they? Please, review again! Bye-bye. ;)


	9. Shooting Stars

Hi guys. God, I'm laid up with the flu and I think I've slipped into the seventh ring of hell! I'm going to take a break from writing till I get better. Hope you like this chap.

The lights were bright, the horn blared. Her every instinct screamed for her to move, to get out of the way, but she wouldn't. Her feet felt glued to the road. She closed her eyes, waiting for impact.

Something grabbed the back of her coat. Something was pulling her back. She felt herself being jerked back, falling down and rolling off the road. She wasn't alone.

Beth opened her eyes and saw, through blades of wet grass, the ten-wheeler swerve and continue driving. The fat trucker leaned out the window and cussed.

"Crazy bitch!" he yelled, as his truck drove out of sight.

She groaned. Her body would be bruised tomorrow. She tried to get up but felt something move behind her.

Looking back, she saw the guy, James, spread out on the grass, like he had just been thrown off an elephant.

"Wha?" she whispered, dazed. He'd saved her?

James groaned and sat up, leaves and twigs stuck in his hair. He rubbed his arm, the one he fell landed on, and looked at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes wide and worried.

Beth couldn't find her voice, instead she nodded.

He got on his hands and knees and pushed himself off the ground, and brushed of his jeans and work vest. Reaching out his hand he helped Beth get up. He even brushed the hair back from her face.

"That truck almost hit you!" he said, nearly shouting. "What were you doing?!"

She didn't know what to say. What could she say? Instead she shrugged her shoulders and looked out at the empty road.

Her only chance of escape had gone, honking and cussing, into town. What she going to do now? If she tried to run out into the road again, he'd just go after her. She suddenly felt her chest boil with shame. She didn't deserve to die. Oblivion wiped the slates clean. She deserved to live with what she'd done. To feel this guilt for the rest of her life.

"I'm sorry." she said, to no one in particular.

"Don't be." James said, running a hand through his leafy hair. "As long as we're both alright." He looked back at the store. "Is there someone you'd like to call? Does you mom have a cell phone?"

"Um." she said, stalling. Nervously, she put her hands in her jean pockets and rocked.

In the bottom of her back pocket she felt a crumpled piece of paper. Pulling it out, she recognized it. A last resort.

"Um. Yeah, can I use your phone?" she asked, voice soft.

"Yeah." he said, pulling a twig out of his hair. "You can use the payphone in front of the store. Here, I'll take you."

Walking over to her, he grabbed her chubby arm gently and led her to the parking lot. Beth knew he held her so she wouldn't take off, again.

He led her past the parking lot to the front of the store. A few feet from the door was a Sprint payphone.

She searching for her money, but came up empty.

"Here." James said, digging into his own pockets. He handed her two quarters.

"Thank you." she said, feeling her face heat up.

He just nodded and leaned back against the wall.

She smoothed out the paper and set it under the phone, put the quarters in the slot, and dialed the number.

"Please hold." said the cool, female voice of the machine. A few seconds later the phone began to ring. Beth's heart stopped.

What was she doing? What would she say? Would these people even accept her after that fiasco at the hospital? Her worries were cut short.

"Xavier Institute." said a velvety voice.

"Hello?" said Beth, voice still soft.

"Hello?" repeated the woman. "Who's calling?"

"Bethany." she answered, quivery.

"Bethany who?"

"Bethany Bancroft, ma'am." she said, a little louder. "I need to speak to Xavier, please."

"Oh." said the woman. "Hang on one moment. I'll put you through."

"Thank you, ma'am." she said, politely. Mom used to say, if you don't know what to say, stick to good manners.

There was a few moments pause, which she spent glancing at James when he wasn't looking. Once you got past all that greasy hair, he was kind of cute.

"Hello?" said a deep, rich voice.

"Hello." she said, startled. "Professor Xavier?"

"Yes, it's me, Bethany." he said. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned, which made it had to talk.

"Professor." she said, praying she wouldn't break down now. "Can I stay at your institute?"

"What?" he asked softly, slightly surprised. Before she could talk, he added, "Of course you can. Where are you?"

"Um. I'm at a gas station outside of town." she said, looking around. "It's called Puerto. It's on. . ."

She put her hand over the speaking end and turned to James.

"Hey, um, what's this place's address?" she asked.

James looked up, startled at being asked.

"Oh, um. It's 727 west of highway 160." he said, rubbing his eyes. It must be real late.

"Thanks." she said, turning back to the phone.

"Hello?" Xavier asked.

"I'm here." she said. "I'm at 727 west of highway 160."

". . . Alright." he said. She knew for sure he was writing it down.

Her chest got tighter, it was hard to breathe. The pebbles on the ground shook and rattled.

"Please come soon." she said, her voice cracking. "Please."

"We will, Bethany." he said, his voice strong and strangely comforting.

"We'll be there soon."

The pebbles stopped moving.

"When will you get here?" she asked, despising her weepy tone of voice.

"We'll be there in about a half an hour." he said, then paused. "Fifteen minutes."

How could he get here that fast? According to that paper, the institute was all the way in New York.

"Don't worry." he said, suddenly. "We will be there."

"Thank you." she said, wanting to get off the phone. The faster they hung up, the sooner he'd be here.

"Wait for us." he said.

"I will." she said.

"I'll speak with you soon."

"Bye." she said.

"Goodnight." he said. Then the phone went dead.

She listened to the silence for a while, then hung up before the operators voice came on.

"So. . . What's going on?" asked James, looking at her through his greasy bangs. "Who'd you call?"

"Um. . . That was my uncle. . . Chuck." she lied, still standing by the phone. "He lives outside of town. He's coming to pick me up."

"What about your mom?" he asked, face puzzled.

"She's. . . probably at the bar or something." she said, looking down, hoping he'd buy it.

"Oh." he said, quietly. "Sorry. My mom's like that too sometimes."

Beth's stomach shivered. God, she hated lying to this poor guy.

"I hate it when she does this." she continued. You have to add details to lies to make them believable. "She always dumps me off someplace and goes bar-hopping."

"Is she staying with you?" he asked. He was not making this any easier.

"No. I'm gonna go to Uncle Chuck. I think she'll just stay at a hotel."

"Oh. Well, that's good at least." he said, smiling slightly,

She smiled too, wondering what he would think if he knew the truth. Even that life sounded better than what she was living now.

Beth stuffed her hands inside her coat pockets. She felt the candy and junk she'd stolen against her hands. More guilt rose inside her chest.

James looked back into the store, then pushed off the wall.

"Well, Pops is up." he said, looking at the old man.

Beth peered through the big glass window too. The old man was still on his stool, thumbing through the sports section of James' paper. His eyes were so squinty, she almost couldn't tell if he was awake or not.

"I better get back." James said, looking back at her. She could tell he wasn't sure if he should leave. "Are you gonna be okay out here?"

"Yeah." she said, secretly fidgeting with a Slim Jim. "Uncle should be here real soon."

"Okay." he said, heading back to the door. "I'll be inside if you need anything."

She nodded, watching him. The guy had been so nice to her tonight.

"Wait." she said, digging out her pockets of all her loot. "Here. Would you put these back?"

He walked over to her. She had laid all the stolen junk on the payphone.

Looking at all the candy made her feel embarrassed.

"You stole all this?" he said, picking up the Baby Ruth.

"Yeah." she said, lip shaking. "Are you gonna call the cops?"

He looked at her for a second, frowning. She thought for a minute he would. He would call the cops, they'd come and lock her up, before Xavier could ever get to her. But to her surprise, her shook his head.

"No." he said. "Just don't try it again."

"Thanks." she said, smiling gently.

"Don't mention it." he said, gathering up the stuff.

She helped him, giving back the Slim Jims and candy bars. He took them and put them inside his vest pockets. When they got to the earring, though, he stopped.

"Here." he said, handing them to her. "You can keep these."

Beth looked at him.

"No." she said, pushing his hand back. "It's not right. Take them back."

"No." he said, walking closer to her. "You keep 'em."

Without saying a word, he took the dangling shells out of their package and slipped them onto her empty ears. Her heart jumped. He was so close. When he finished, he backed away, brushing her hair aside.

"They look great on you." he said, throwing the empty package into the parking lot.

"Thanks." she said again, feeling the shells dangle against her neck.

"Who's out there? Who's that, Jimmy?" asked a crusty voice.

The old man stood by the door, looking around at her and James.

"No one, Pops." James said, walking away from her. "Just a girl."

"She's not one of them whores, is she." he said, squinting at Beth with his beady eyes.

"No, she's not a whore." said 'Jimmy', heading back inside.

"Cause if she is, tell her a fatty like her ain't gonna make much-"

"Pops, maybe you should go rest." he said, firmly.

The old man glared at him, then turned his hunched back and wobbled away, mumbling.

"Spoiled brat. . . fought in WWII and this is what I get. . . 'rest' he says, little puke!"

"Love you too, Pops." James said, holding the door open as the old man passed. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Beth said, crossing her arms over her chest and smiling.

"See ya later, then." he said, going back into the store.

"See ya." she said quietly, as he closed the door and went back behind the counter.

Now that James was gone, she leaned against the wall and looked around. The forest next to the store stood dark and menacing against the black night. The only light came from the fluorescent lights over the parking lot.

Occasionally she would look out at the road, forcing back the memory of what she tried to do, and watched for any car Xavier might be in. The sky above was a thick blue-black speckled with tiny blue-white stars.

Beth fell back against the wall until her but hit the ground, staring up at those stars. She could make out the Big Bear and the Little Dipper. Orion and his glittering belt shone just above the treetops. Two bright stars beamed above the forest that didn't belong to any constellation. She stared at them for a while, then realized they were moving. Closer.

Beth watched, eyes furrowed, as the two stars or whatever they were grew bigger. She looked back at the store to see if James could see this. He was busy restocking shelves. Turning back, she saw the stars had vanished.

While she stared along the sky trying to find them, she didn't notice the fog seeping out from the forest, encircling the store.

Beth almost jumped when she saw the hazy mist surrounding the whole street.

The fog was so thick, the light shining down from the street lamps cut through it like a knife. She stood, about to go back into the store, when something caught her attention.

Two figures could be seen coming out of the forest. On tall and one short, the fog blurring their appearance.

Slowly, Beth backed against the door, fingers grasping the handle, the figures almost to the parking lot.

"Don't be frightened, Beth." said a voice in her head. 'It's me, Xavier.'

The figures became clearer, the fog sliding away. Xavier sat, rolling in his wheelchair, dressed in the same olive green suit and black sweater she'd seen him in. The other figure was of the tall, black woman with the long white hair. She stared as they came up to her.

"Good evening, Bethany." said Xavier, out loud. "How are you?"

"Good." she lied, eyes darting from him to the black woman. He must have noticed.

"This is Ms. Munroe." he said. "You've met her before, at the hospital."

"I know. Um. . ." she said, reaching out her hand to the woman. "Hi."

"Hello." said the Ms. Munroe, gently shaking her hand. The voice sounded just like the one on the phone.

"Are you ready to go?" Xavier asked, looking around. "Do you have any bags?"

"No." she said, nervously. "I didn't bring any."

"Does your grandmother know about your decision?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

Beth looked down at the cracked cement. "Um. . . No." she said. "Is that a problem?"

"No, but I do suggest you call her when we get back."

Her head shot up.

"So, I still get to go?" she asked, trying to sound hopeful.

Xavier looked at her, taking in her greasy hair and dirty clothes.

"Yes, you can still go." he said, hands folded in his lap. "I know you need assistance."

"Yeah." she said, rubbing the back of her neck, earrings dancing. The image of the pebbles came back, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

"Don't worry." Xavier said, reading her thoughts. "We're here to help with your new powers, so incidents like that won't happen."

"Thank you." she said, kicking at a rock on the ground. "How'd ya'll get here so fast?"

"We flew." said Xavier, smiling slightly.

Beth looked around. The streets and fields were all empty.

"Where's the plane?" she asked.

"Back in the forest." he said, gesturing. "Now come. It's time to go."

"You mean, I have to fly?" she asked, fear rolling down her stomach.

Xavier stared at her, calculating. All the memories of the crash came roaring back into her mind. What if she freaked out again and this plane crashed? Her breath came out in short gasps. Nausea churned in the back of her throat.

"You'll be fine." said Ms. Munroe, reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. "The ride only takes fifteen minutes."

"Okay." said Beth, still scared. A lot could happen in fifteen minutes.

Xavier smiled again "Let's go." he said, wheeling around and rolling toward the forest. Beth and Ms. Munroe followed. When she got to the edge of the forest, she looked back.

Squinting, she could barely see James in the store. He was behind the counter now, still picking twigs out of his hair. Reaching up, she twirled a cowrie shell between her fingers.

"Thanks." she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her.

"What?" asked Ms. Munroe, a few feet away from her.

"I said 'Thanks'." she said, smiling. "For helping me with this."

Munroe smiled, her white teeth matching her snowy hair. "You're very welcome, dear." she said, then looking back at the forest.

Beth smiled as she walked, but felt it slide away. What was happening? What was the 'institute' like? Would they lock her away? Could she even survive the plane ride?

Trying to cast these fears aside, she followed the others into the forest.

Ta-da! Beth is finally with the X-Men! I thought it would never happen. As before, I'm going to take a break. Please, leave me alone with the one nostril I can breathe out of. Reviews are always welcome. Talk to ya'll later. Lo.

Review Response:

To Haretrigger: Thanks for the nice review. Glad you like Beth as a fat-ass. I got tired of the Playboy OC's too. No, Beth will not go out with any of the regulars. I ran across that in so many OC fics that I have completely lost interest in something like that happening. And everyone won't fall head-other-heels when they meet her. Hope you keep reading. Luv, Lo.

To Strawbpig: Lol. I didn't mean to give anyone any ideas. There is one big flaw in shoplifting that I didn't mention in the fic, security cameras. I'm so happy everyone likes that Beth is big. And she will get more independent as the story goes. Can't wait to hear from you. Lo. PS You writing a DBZ fic? Cool!

To Mattb3671: (Who is possibly the coolest beta-reader in the known world)Glad to have you on the payroll. Hope you do a good job beta-reading this because I'm posting it after you check it. Oh, I wanted to ask you, what do you do to give yourself a back injury? ;) Well, hope you feel better. Email me sometime, beyatch! Lo.

To Neko: Sorry to put you through that. I'm afraid I have an attraction to cliff-hangers. It's nice to meet a fellow 'unbalanced' person. Keep reviewing! Lo.

To DreamerLady: Wassup, beyatch! I take back the 'neglecting muse' thing, (I've had friends in crises too). Tell me what ya think of my new beta's checking. Did ya like my email? Talk to ya soon. Lo.

To Absolute Omega: Yay! The song didn't ruin it! Are you glad Beth's going to the institute? Oh, and what did you think of James in this chap? Email ya later. Lo.


	10. Problem Child

Hi, everyone! I'm so stoked right now, cause I's just got the new HP DVD! So  
I wanna post this as fast as I can then go lock myself in my room for days  
and watch it. Hope you enjoy this long chapter.

After the Fall: Chapter Ten, 'Problem Child'.

By: LolitaRed.

Rated: PG-13.

The whole forest was engrossed with fog. A thick silver haze blocked out any  
view past a two-foot radius. The heavy, moist air expanded the lungs but was  
still somehow hard to breathe.

Xavier rolled along in front of them as easily as if he was on a sunny   
sidewalk. While Beth stumbled, scuffed, and stubbed her way through the  
rocky dirt, his wheelchair barely bobbed.

Munroe walked slightly behind, gliding as smoothly as the fog, which was   
getting thicker by the minute. Standing beside those two pillars of grace  
intimidated the hell out of Beth.

She felt so pathetically awkward; her bulging body jiggled and bounced as   
she walked, her breathing came out in wheezing pants, and her face was  
already flushed and sweaty.

All she could think about was the impending plane ride. Thousands of morbid  
scenarios played out like slide shows in her mind, each more gruesome than  
the last. She was just imagining Xavier's shiny baldhead rolling down an  
aisle, (which looked an awful lot like the SilverBird), when a hand grabbed  
her shoulder.

"Child, are you alright?" asked Munroe, taking her hand away after Beth's  
startled reaction. "You seem on edge."

Beth hurried ahead, almost tripping over an embedded rock, trying to calm   
her trembling insides.

"Yeah, I'm good." she lied, which was becoming natural to her. "This fog is  
just creeping me out."

Munroe smiled softly, the coy smile conspirators and jokers wear.

"Where'd it come from?" she asked, eyebrow quirked.

Munroe's mouth opened in a small circle, but Xavier silenced whatever she   
would have said.

"Ororo, would you please clear our pathway a little?" he asked, gesturing to  
the cloudbank in front of them.

"Of course, Charles." she said, stepping forward, her right hand raised in  
front of her. Gracefully, she let her arm fall in a swooping motion.

Instantly the fog split down the middle and moved to the side, like a  
curtain being opened. The scenery behind the fog became clear and sharp.   
They could see the path ahead, and what was in front of them.

A few feet to the right of the path was a chunk of fog so thick it looked  
like a giant cotton ball.

"Ah, there it is." said Xavier, more to himself than to anyone else.

Beth looked up at Munroe, awed and slightly afraid.

"So you made the fog." she said, as they all headed to the hunk of cloud.

"Yes." said Munroe, sweeping back the end of her purple scarf. "That's my  
gift. Weather control."

"You mean, you can make storms and stuff?" Beth asked, the dreaded plane  
ride temporally forgotten.

"Yes." she said smiling that coy smile again. "It comes quite in handy when  
we need a little 'camouflage'."

She was about to ask what that meant, when again Xavier interrupted.

"You can disperse this fog now, Storm." he said, facing the cloud.

Without saying a word, Munroe raised both her arms over her head, palms up   
and open. She looked like an emaciated person embracing a sudden rainstorm,  
or a Christian reaching for God. Beth studied her closely this time, taking  
in every detail. She watched, mesmerized, as the woman's eyes turned  
completely white, afraid for a moment she had gone blind, before Munroe  
slowly brought her arms down to her sides.

Just as slowly the fog faded, the pines and night sky getting clearer,   
before long all traces of it vanished.

The big chunk of cloud had faded too, and what it left behind was even   
stranger.

A huge black machine sat in its place. Beth supposed it could be called   
'plane-like', but it was unlike any she's seen before.

First off, the wings were switched around to look like a dark boomerang   
coming out of the body. The nose of the thing, as she guessed it was called,  
was wider than a standard plane and shaped kind of like the head of a broad  
sword. The whole thing had to be as big as the store.

"What is that thing?" she asked softly.

"This is the SR77 Blackbird." said Xavier, wheeling towards it. "The   
Institute's private jet, if you will."

"Wow." whispered Beth. Her sense of wonder quickly replaced with dread;   
which was becoming all-too familiar with her this past month.

A door on the side of the plane slid open and a gruff looking man stuck his  
dark head out.

"'Bout time." he said in a deep, crusty voice. "I was gettin' sick and tired  
of starring at that fog."

The man pressed a hidden button from somewhere inside and a metal tray thing  
lowered from under the plane.

"Did ya find the girl, Chuck?" asked the man, as Xavier rolled onto the tray  
and was lifted to the door.

"Yes, we did." he said, wheeling inside. "Bethany, I'd like you to meet one  
of the Institute's instructors, Logan. Logan, this is Bethany Bancroft."

She walked over to the plane, wondering how the hell she'd get up there, and  
nodded at Logan, who nodded back.

She placed her arms on the floor of the Blackbird and was about to hoist   
herself up when Logan, in a display of phenomenal strength, grabbed her by  
the upper-arms and lifted her up. Beth was stunned. No one had ever been  
able to pick her up since she was twelve. A couple of Mom's boyfriends had  
tried now and then, (most in a drunken stupor), but with awkward and often  
embarrassing results.

The blue denim and leather-clad man gave Munroe a hand, and then shut the circular door, sealing everyone inside.

The walls and floor of the Blackbird were a clean, stainless steel that gave  
it a military feel. Black, stiff, fabric seats were the only soft spots on  
the plane. She didn't know where to sit, so she wandered to the back and  
tried to stay out of the way.

Xavier wheeled himself to the copilot's position; Logan took the helm, while 

Munroe stayed standing.

"You can have a seat over here, dear." she said, taking notice of Beth's  
plight and showing her to a chair just behind the Engineer's seat.

She sat and fiddled with the buckle. The strange thing had two straps over  
the shoulders and two coming up from the seat to meet at the middle.

"Here, let me help you." said Munroe, leaning over her.

Beth didn't need help.

"Are you sure?" she asked, concerned and hurt.

Definitely. She didn't want to be a problem.

She finally got buckled and watched Munroe take her seat behind Logan. This  
was it. She could see the man's hands move across the controls and felt a cold sweat roll down her back. Trying not to think about it, she let her  
eyes wander around the steel walls, then her gaze landed on Xavier. He was  
watching her. Did he know what she was thinking? Was he reading her  
thoughts? Mentally, she gave a warning, not knowing if he could hear it.

'Stay out of my head. Stay out of my head. Stay out of my head.' she   
thought, looking at his olive jacket. Out of the corner of her eye she saw  
him turn his head away and heard him talking to Logan about some mechanical  
thing he had to fix when he got back.

Besides some small turbulence, the take off was blessedly smooth. Beth still   
felt like she was dangling by a thread over a canyon of doom. And what she  
was afraid of, was herself. These people had no idea what they were getting  
themselves into.

The clouds and dark sky could be seen out of the wide front window. Watching  
the clouds smash and collide with the plane made her stomach churn horribly.  
Instead she closed her eyes. Remembering the day she first realized what a  
problem she was.

Beth, August 12, 2000.

God, it is hot in Kentucky. So hot if you look out on the streets around my  
house, you can see invisible heat waves shaking above the asphalt. Sometimes  
it's so hot it feels like the sun is sitting right on your shoulders. And  
it's not just hot in the daytime either. The heat somehow sneaks its way  
into the nighttime too.

I would lay under the sheet in bed and sweat like a hog. The back of my neck  
just drips on the pillows.

Tonight Momma's boyfriend, Danny, is coming over for dinner. I like Danny.

He is so cool. All the girls in my old class are so jealous, causeway back  
when he and Momma were first dating, he would come to lunch at the school  
and hang out with me. Not Lisa, or Courtney, or even snotty-ass Chelsea.  
Just me. At recess he would push me on the swings. Even after all the other  
kids would line up on the swings, begging him to push them, he would make  
sure I was still swinging high.

But, above all that, the coolest thing about Danny is his motorcycle. He has  
an honest-to-God motorcycle, not one of those stupid scooters old people  
ride around on.

I love that bike. It has two long metal bars connected to the front wheel,  
(which is bigger than any of Momma's car tires!) And it has a black body  
with long leather seats. It scares me when he starts it up, though. The  
noise is ten-times louder than thunder, sounds like it's about to explode!

Momma won't let me ride it though. She says I'm too young, that I'm only   
eleven, or that I'll fall off. She just wants to ride it herself but she's  
too scared. What Momma doesn't know is that while she's at work, Danny comes  
over and takes me for a ride. He makes sure everything is safe, he even  
bought me a cherry-red helmet that he hides under the 'bitch-seat'. So when  
Momma leaves I'll wait for hours till I hear his bike pull upon our  
driveway. He'll come in and drink a beer or watch TV for a while till I simply beg him to go for a ride.

"Alright, sugerbean, let me finish this can then we'll go." Of course, I'm   
already outside buckling on my helmet before he even comes out the door. I'm  
real short for my age so he has to pick me up and put me on the bike. Then  
he gets on and starts it.

This is the scariest part, when the engines are roaring and my feet aren't   
touching the ground and I have to hold onto him. I think the bike will tip  
over when we go. But it doesn't.

He kicks out the stands and we go flying down the street. He just doesn't go  
around the block either. He takes me all around town, and I love every  
minute of it, even though my legs and butt were sore for days afterwards.

We can't go riding tonight though.

Momma sets the table while I stir the peas. Then I hear Danny coming and run  
outside. "Beth! Don't run off like that!" Momma hollers after me.

Danny's wearing his shiny new leather jacket Momma bought him for his   
birthday. I run up and hug him, the new leather smell filling my nostrils.

He has his long dark blonde hair pulled back and has a blue bandana wrapped  
around his head. He puts me at arms length and looks at me. Then, if you can  
believe it, he leans in and kisses me right on the mouth!  
Oh, Chelsea would be so jealous! My face heats up and my legs feel like  
jelly. No one but Momma's ever kissed me before. When he pulls away, I lick my lips and taste the beer he left behind. Momma's standing by the door  
looking mad 'bout something. I don't care. I feel just like a grown up  
woman. I don't have to listen to her anymore.

I come inside and we all start eating dinner. Momma's gone all out tonight.  
She made peas, mashed potatoes, and her special roast beef casserole. No one  
talks during dinner. I try to get a conversation going and tell them about  
Lisa's new pool, but Momma tells me to eat my food and I shut up.

After dinner, things get better. We all go into the living room and watch   
TV. Momma sits on the couch with Danny. I lay down on the floor and try to  
understand Jay Leno's jokes. Then I get a bright idea and run into my room  
to get my deck of cards. Me and Danny play Texas Hold 'em for about two  
hours before Momma tells me to go to bed. I tell her I ain't tired yet. She  
yells at me in front of Danny and I make a scene. I end up stomping off into  
my room and slamming the door.

I was so embarrassed! How could Momma do that to me in front of Danny?! I  
hate her. I wish she was dead!

To get my mind off of Momma, I pick up my notebook, hop on my bed, and draw.  
I drew Danny's bike out in our driveway. I could hear Momma and Danny  
talking back in the living room but couldn't make out what they were saying.

The talking turned to shouting. Momma was the loudest. I could hear her yell  
my name. I put down my notebook and sat down by the door. I sat there  
listening, excited and scared at the same time.

". . . Don't ever touch her like that! . . . got a call from her teacher   
asking about you. . . you monster!"

I couldn't take it anymore. Getting up, I threw on my grey sweatshirt over  
my red tank top and white short-shorts, (that I wear almost every day during  
the summer). I grabbed one of my hair-ties and pulled back my long black  
hair. I had to get out but I sure as hell wasn't going back out there, so I  
went to my window. I hate that window. It's old and crusty and almost  
painted shut. I have to push as hard as I can just to open it a little. But

I get it open enough so that I can squeeze through.

I let myself drop to the ground. My arms are sore and twitchy and my hands  
are red and stinging.

The sky outside is a bright pink and yellow. The grass on the yards looks so  
green.  
I get up and run as fast as I can down the street and around the block.  
Now that I was a good distance away, I slowed to a walk.

The neighborhood here was nice. All the yards were big and open, none of   
those ugly chain link fences. I walked around the neighborhood till I got to  
Lisa's house. The curtains were closed but I could see the lights shining  
through. They were probably eating dinner and laughing with each other.

Lisa's mom didn't have thousands of boyfriends and fights and breakups.

In front of their yard stood a huge outdoor swimming pool. I walked over and looked at it. Lisa had called and told me all about it. Dying of jealousy, I  
leaned over and hawked a huge logie into the bright blue waters and took  
off.

I walked around till the sun went down and all the streetlights came on,  
praying Danny wouldn't leave too. My legs hurt and my stomach cramped. I  
just had to get inside and sit down.

The house was so silent when I got there. Danny was still in the living   
room. He didn't look at me or anything. Momma was sitting at the kitchen  
table, smoking.

Her eyes were all puffy and I know she'd been crying. Her hair was all   
frizzy and falling out of her little bun.

When I come into the kitchen, she doesn't even look up, just stares out the  
window above the sink, like she wanted to jump through it or something. I  
didn't wanna sit next to her after everything she did, so I hopped up on the  
counter, swinging my legs.

"Stop doing that!" hissed Momma. "You're givin' me a headache." I stopped  
swinging and watched the filmy cigarette smoke twirl in the air. "What is  
that?" she asked.

She was looking down at my crotch. I looked too.

A big red stain was right in the middle of my white shorts. I felt   
embarrassed and scared.

"Great." said Momma. "That's all I need." Then she got up, slammed the chair  
into the table and walked off into the hallway.

My face twisted and I knew I was about to cry, but then the front door   
slammed and I heard Danny's bike start up.

Forgetting all about my first period, I rushed out into the yard.

"Danny! Don't go! Take me with you!" I yelled but he couldn't hear me. He  
was halfway down the block already. I ran after him, as fast as I could. My  
legs were pumping up and down so fast it felt like they didn't touch the  
ground at all. All I could see was the back of his jacket and his ponytail  
flying in the wind.

"Danny!" I screamed, but I was out of breath and not loud enough. I crashed   
down in the middle of the road. My heart pounding so bad it hurt, my lungs  
burning.

Maybe, if I had only been faster, things would have turned out different.

"We're about to land, dear." said Munroe, looking back at my from the   
Engineer's seat.

"Oh, okay." Beth said, tumbling back into the present. Leaning to the side,  
she looked out the front window.

Rocky, jagged cliffs zoomed by. The Blackbird slowed slightly as it turned   
to face a waterfall. Beth thought they would fly over it, but they didn't.

They were heading straight towards it.

Her fears were confirmed. They would crash. Immediately her body tensed, and  
she couldn't breathe.

"Hey! Look out!" she called. Logan quirked an eyebrow at her then turned  
back to the controls. Xavier and Munroe turned and looked at her.

"Bethany, dear." she said, reaching her hand out to touch Beth, who jerked   
back. "It's alright. There's nothing behind-"

"Are you all crazy?!" Beth screamed. "We're gonna crash! Turn this plane  
around!"

The safety kits hanging on the wall started shot open, their continents   
floating and spinning in the air.

"Bethany, you must calm down." said Xavier firmly, ducking as a roll of   
bandages shot at his head. "Everything will be fine."

She didn't listen and was jerking at her seat belt trying to get it to   
unbuckle. "Hysterical kid." she heard Logan mutter as she stood up. Munroe  
got out of her seat too.

"Child, calm yourself." she said, grabbing Beth from behind and holding her  
in place. "You must stay seated."

"Let me go!" she screamed, tubes of cream and soft white gloves zooming by.

'Listen to my voice.' said Xavier's voice in her head.

"I told you to stay out!" Beth screamed aloud, fighting to break away from  
Munroe. "Get me off this thing!"

"Beth, you leave me no choice." he said, then telepathically added, 'This  
won't hurt you.'

The same feeling she had back in the hospital came rushing back. Tiny ants  
swarmed over her pulsing brain, engulfing and compressing it. The room  
suddenly went mute and then filled with a gentle rushing. He was filling her  
head with the sound of the ocean. It was all she could hear. Her over strung  
muscles relaxed and felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. She stopped  
jerking and tugging away from Munroe, who led her back to her seat. The  
safety kit stuff fell to the floor.

Dimly, through heavy-lidded eyes, she saw the waterfall getting closer and   
felt the Blackbird slow down. Then the water split down the middle and a  
metal cave appeared behind it.

Letting her head flop down onto her shoulders, Beth felt the first wave of embarrassment wash over her, as another roll of bandages unfurled down the  
length of the jet. Sounds came back to her as the roaring ocean faded away.

"Engines one, two, and three are deactivated." muttered Logan, flipping   
switches and pushing buttons as the plane came to a halt inside the hanger.

"Thank you, Logan." said Xavier, rolling away from the controls and closer  
to her.

Logan stood and surveyed the damage she had done. "I'm guessin' this kid's a  
'kinesis like Jean." he said, stepping over the bandages.

"Unfortunately, she is." said Xavier curtly, as Logan opened the door and   
prepared the tray. "A very emotional one at that."

"Are you alright now?" asked Munroe, who had been holding her to the chair.

"Uh-huh." she grunted, nodding her head, stumbling to her feet.

"Can you walk?" she asked, her grip on Beth's arm loosening.

"Yeah, I'm fine." she said, humiliated.

After Xavier rolled off his tray, Beth and Ororo hopped down.

"I'll stay and pick up this mess." said Logan, still in the jet.

"Thank you." said Xavier, wheeling to the other end of the tall metal room.

"I'm sorry." whispered Beth, as she and Munroe followed Xavier.

"Don't be." assured the woman. "It's a natural reaction."

Not wanting to say the wrong thing, Beth said nothing.

At the other end of the hanger was a circular, steel hallway. As Beth walked  
down it, her stomach shriveled. This place looked like a hospital, like an  
institution. Was this a psychiatric ward? Would they lock her up after what  
she did?

"Come along." said Xavier, already at the end of the hallway. Some stray  
ants still scurried along her brain. Beth hurried back to Munroe's side.

At the end of the hallway was an elevator. The doors slid open and they all  
went in. Xavier pushed the second button from the top that had a big, bold  
'G' on it. Her stomach jumped as the small room shot up into the building.

She couldn't look at Xavier or Munroe. Why did she have to freak out like   
that? Is she really insane? Will they think she is?

Dread and doom rolled around in her gut as the elevator doors opened again. 

But what she walked out into took her breath away.

Instead of steel metal walls, warm, golden beige filled the room. Rich,   
burgundy carpet stretched down the middle of the hallway over the dark hard  
wood floor. Small, glowing sconces were bolted along the walls, and polished  
wood tables with bright flowers graced the hall.

They all went around a corner, Xavier leading, and Beth saw a huge entrance,  
and a magnificent staircase. Xavier and Munroe went into a different room  
and Beth was forced to leave.

They walked through a wonderful library with shelves of books so tall they   
touched the ceiling, (which had to be thirty feet high). Passing the warm  
crackling fireplace and overstuffed couches, they went into another room.

This one was defiantly and office. At the end of the room was a huge desk.   
Seven tall windows stood, black and slightly menacing around the room. Two  
to the left of the desk, three to the right, and three right behind it.  
Paintings of mountains and landscapes adorned the walls, along with several  
framed degrees.

Xavier wheeled behind the desk while Munroe sat in one of the couches near   
the wall. Beth stood, again not knowing what to do.

"Please," said Xavier, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, "have a  
seat."

Beth sat. The chair was shaped so that it scooped near the back, hugging the  
sitter.

"Professor," she began, outwardly calm, inwardly trembling. "About what   
happened, I'm-"

"Bethany." he said, rasing his hand, silencing her. His face somber. "First   
of all, you have nothing to be sorry for. What happened on the plane was  
completely my fault."

"What?" she said, shocked and confused.

"I should have warned you about the location of our hanger." he said,  
peering at her with his light brown eyes. "It is only natural, after what  
you've been through, that you would react as you did. And for that, I  
apologies."

"Um," she said, looking down at her chubby hands. "Thank you, I guess."

"But," he continued, "What happened on the plane will not be tolerated at  
this Institute."

Her head shot up. "I'm sorry, Professor, really I am. I didn't mean-"

"Don't be sorry, Beth." he said, waving away her apology. "I'm just stating  
a fact. We cannot allow incidents like that to happen. Which is precisely  
the reason why you're here. Here at the institute we will help you learn to  
control your budding powers and to use them efficiently."

"How?" she asked, wondering where this little speech was going.

"By training and practice." he said, leaning closer. "We have special rooms  
here to use for training. Don't worry. We won't give you anything too  
advanced. This first week will be mostly about finding out how much control  
you have of your powers. We will move on from there."

"Okay." she said, dumbly. This was all so strange. Then something occurred   
to her. "What about my clothes? Where will I stay?"

Xavier smiled gently. "We have rooms upstairs for all our students. I'm sure  
you'll find them to your liking. About your clothes, or moreover, lack  
thereof. We will take you shopping for new items later this week. For now  
you can borrow from the other girls."

Beth laughed inwardly. Would any of those clothes fit her?

"Which leads me to something else." he continued, leaning back into his   
chair, back as straight as a board. "Besides common decency, obedience, and  
politeness, we have only one rule: Never, unless under extreme circumstances  
are you to use your powers in public. It is crucial to us that yours and the  
other student's powers remain secret. As I'm sure you know, the general  
public does not know of mutants, and we would like to keep it that way, for  
as long as we can."

"I understand." she said, knowing she wouldn't show her powers to people  
even if she was allowed.

"Well, it's late." he said, looking out at the dark sky. Beth looked around for a clock. Sure enough it was nearly 1:00 am. "You had a very busy  
evening. I suggest you get some rest and call your grandmother first thing  
in the morning."

"Okay." she said, then added. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Beth." he said, smiling. His face looked tired and old. The  
bags under his eyes illuminated by the golden lamplight. "Ill speak with you  
tomorrow morning. Ms. Munroe will show you to your room. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." she said, getting up.

"Goodnight, Charles." said Munroe, opening the door for Beth.

"Likewise." he said, smiling, pulling out some papers from inside his desk.

Leaving Xavier's office, Munroe led Beth back out through the library, and   
up the staircase. Munroe told her where everything is.

"That's Xavier's room." she said, pointing to the door in front of the   
staircase. "The boy's dorm is the wing to the right, and the girl's is here  
on the left."

They walked down the left wing, Beth looked back and though she had seen,   
for a brief second, a red dog's tail whip around the corner.

"That's my room over there, you can come visit me anytime you want." she said, bursting Beth's thought and pointing to a room at the end of the wing.

"This is the bathroom, and here is your room." she said, opening the door  
second on the right side.

Beth walked in and was floored.

A big bed stood near the west wall, with a warm orange quilt comforter and  
clean white sheets. A vanity mirror stood opposite the bed with wall sconces  
on either side. A night stand was next to the bed with an alarm clock and  
lamp. A big stereo was next to the vanity with two speakers at each end of  
the wall. Two tall windows stood on the north sidewall, each leading out  
onto an honest-to-God balcony. Connected to the tall ceiling was an overhead   
fan, and on each side of the window were two tall bookshelves. Next to the  
bed stood a smaller version of Xavier's desk.

"Wow." said Beth, sitting down on the bed. It had the stiff, unused feel   
that hotel rooms have. "This is amazing."

"Do you like it?" asked Munroe, turning on the floor lamp near the door.

"Yeah, I love it." she said, getting up and taking off her coat. "Where did  
Xavier get all this?"

"He is a very generous man." was all she would say. "Will you be alright?"

"Yeah," she said, hanging her coat up in the closet near the nightstand.

"I'll be fine."

"Okay then," said the woman, giving her a brief hug. "I'll check up on you  
in the morning."

"Alright." Beth said, sitting back down.

After Munroe left, Beth got up and went to the window. She pushed back one   
of the beige curtains and looked outside. The balcony had two potted palms  
and a reclining white lawn chair. The scenery beyond it was black.

Shutting the curtains, she turned off the lights and turned on the fan, and   
went back to the bed. Pulling off her worn jeans, she slipped under the  
covers wearing only her dirty white T-shirt.

She laid there, in the dark, alone, and thought about everything. Everything  
had happened so fast. One minute she was at Gran's, the next she was in  
Bayville New York, at an institute for the 'gifted'.

And, no matter how much she liked it here, no matter how nice these people   
had been, no matter what they had to offer, she still wanted to be home, in  
Kentucky, in her old bed, with Mom.

'But I can't have that anymore.' she thought, in that haze, heavy state   
before sleep takes over. She'd never felt more alone, or more helpless. At  
least, if this was all she had left, it wasn't that bad.

Not that bad at all.

Good god! I just broke my own personal record. Hope the bulk of the chap   
makes up for the wait. Finally, Beth is at the actual Institute. Now the  
real fun starts. Well, I'm not really sure what else to say. How was  
everyone's Thanksgiving? Mine was full of food and we ate desert first. I'm  
not sure what's wrong with me, but I'm experimenting with different writing  
styles. This chap's was more 'wordy' than the last one. Tell me what ya  
think? I'll see ya'll soon.

Review Response:

To Absolute Omega: I'm feeling much better, thank you. What 'cha think of the  
regulars? Did I do a good job? Sorry about the Gambit paring thing, I just  
luv him so much and don't really like him with Rogue. Can't wait for your  
review. Lo.

To DreamerLady: Matt is my bitch, (matt, if your reading this don't pay any  
attention to me!). Glad this helped dim the horror of Sexual Education. So  
glad to hear you passed with flying colors! J/k. Talk to ya soon. Red.

To Matt3671: Life at the mansion is defiantly better than life with Gran.  
Hope your back feels better. What do ya think of the story so far? Oh, and  
I'm so sorry but I haven't had time, with the writing and Thanksgiving and  
all to read your fic. Can I cash a raincheck? Talk to you soon. Email me!


	11. Morning

Hey guys. First off, sorry for making ya'll wait so long for so little. I know there's no way to excuse myself, but I'll sure as hell try. With holidays coming I've been swamped with family, and shopping and all that jazz; and this fic has somehow fallen by the waist side. I'll explain more about the length of this chapter at the bottom, till then, enjoy!

After the Fall: Chapter Eleven, 'Morning'.

By: LolitaRed.

Rated: PG-13, I'm still cussing.

The knocking woke Beth up. She opened her eyes and looked around, confused, at her surroundings. For a fleeting moment, she forgot where she was. The vast room, filled with lavish furniture, seemed totally alien to her dusty, cramped room at Gran's. And what's worse, someone was knocking on the door. Then last night's events came rushing back as Munroe opened the door.

"Are you awake?" she said softly, peeking her head in.

"Yeah." Beth mumbled, sitting up, rumbled and dazed. The whole room was painted in a golden-orange glow coming from behind the curtains. She glanced at the eerie red alarm clock on the night stand. It was 7:00 a.m. exactly.

"I brought you some scrap clothes." said Munroe, striding into the room, arms full of different items. "I think they will fit."

Beth looked at the pile of bright cotton and denim the woman had sat on her bed. If all of the girls here were as small as the Jean chick, then they probably wouldn't.

"Thanks." she said, anyway.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs." said Munroe, heading back to the door to let her dress. "Everyone is so excited to meet you. You know, you might want to take a shower while you still have the chance. With sixteen other people living here, I'm surprised a riot hasn't broken out yet."

Beth knew she was just being polite; she knew she smelled bad, her hair was matted and greasy, and her skin practically dripped with oil. That's what a little less than two weeks of not bathing will do to you. At Gran's I wouldn't have cared, but this was different. This was her new start.

After Munroe had left, she bypassed the new-old clothes and pulled on her old jeans, (almost falling over when her foot caught in the knee hole), and walked into the hallway.

Pale, golden light filtered in from the windows. Beth looked down both ends of the hall, making sure no one was there, then dashed to the opposite door.

She flipped a switch and was blinded by the bright over head lights.

The bathroom was the size of a small locker room. It smelled clean and flowery, like aloe or something. The walls and floors were covered in magenta and ivory tile. A big bathtub stood at the far edge of the room and a tall counter, complete with vanity mirror, stood opposite. The whole room had a strange sickly-sweet, restaurant restroom- like feel.

She quickly locked the door behind her and began to strip. Instead of putting her clothes in the laundry basket by the door, she tossed them into the trash can near the tub. She sure as hell wasn't going to wear hose nasty thing again, even if they were the only things that fit her.

Stepping into the tub, she closed the magenta shower curtain and turned the water on. It all felt very weird, showering in such a new place. Besides Gran's, she'd never showered anywhere but at home. She felt tense and slightly woozy, standing there naked. Her mind drifted as she soaped her ratty hair.

What if someone was watching her right now? What if someone came in to use the toilet while she was still there?

Her overactive mind wandered back to the dream she'd had. It was one of those vivid, stupid, and oddly symbolic dreams that plague a person's teenage years; set in her old house in Kentucky.

She had drifted through the drab, grey home, room by room. Logan was in her bedroom, asleep, with a cowboy hat pushed down over his face. Xavier was in the living room, sitting in his wheelchair, dressed like an overgrown Baby New Years, (bonnet and all).

So far, all of them had been very somber and silent, and gave her a sense of foreboding. Then she went into the kitchen and found Munroe at the table. The woman was dressed like a thinner Aunt Jemima, she even had a red handkerchief wrapped around her tower of white hair. Dream-Munroe had opened her mouth to say something but instead of words, the sound of knocking came out of her mouth. This was when Beth woke up.

Turning of the water, she grabbed one of the purple towels hanging on the golden rack and wrapped it around her big body.

She surveyed herself in the vanity mirror. Her face was clean now, but her pimples turned red and shiny, and her hair hung snarled around her shoulders. Thin black down covered her arms and legs, it had been forever since she shaved them. Beth hated her looks. Nose was too wide, lips too big, and her cheeks were too chubby.

She spotted an ivory comb near the sink and picked it up. She pulled out the bright red hairs and tossed them in the trash.

Here was the hard part.

Lifting the comb to the top of her head, she began her own slow torture. Minutes passed, full of tugging, pulling, headaches, and the elastic sound wet hair makes when it snaps. The worst of it was those little knots at the back of her neck. Those bastards would not seem to untangle.

After her hair was combed through, it felt wonderful. Beth felt better than she had in a _long_ time. She knew, at least now, she wasn't a fat, dirty, orphan; now she was just a fat orphan. And she had to admit, her hair was beautiful. Matted it fell to mid-back; when combed the ends tickled the top of her butt. But it would take forever to dry, so she grabbed on of the spare hairties, (this too had bright red hair), and pulled her long sheet of hair up into a ponytail, then headed toward the door.

Listening for any sounds of people, she then rushed back into her room where the pile of clothes waited for her.

Taking of the towel, (she had locked the door for extra security), she rummaged through them. She was right, most of them didn't fit.

Tossing aside a ridiculous black tanktop, she saw a navy blue hoody that was just baggy enough for a tight fit. And under that hoody was a horrible pair of big, 80's pink, denim shorts. Unfortunately, they fit too. Worst of all, she had thrown away her underwear so she would have to 'free-ball' it — as one of Mom's boyfriends called it.

When she was dressed, she looked into her own mirror. The short were too short and showed way too much of her flabby legs, and the acid pink clashed with the dark blue.

How could she go out like this? This would be the first time she would ever meet these people and she had to look like she'd dressed in the dark?

Turning away from the mirror, she headed out the door, trying to ignore the feel of rough denim on her bare butt.

Well, if the last chapter was the longest, this one had to be the shortest. Again, sorry about that. And don't worry, the next chapter will be longer, and a lot more interesting. Hope you all have a happy Christmas! Love, Lo.

Review Response:

To Absolute Omega: Welcome home. It's 2:00 a.m. so don't expect some flowery greeting from me. But thanks so much for following this series. Glad you like the description. Hope you don't mind such a short chapter. I'll email you later, I just got some cool new Evo pics. Laters. Lo.

To Mattb3671: First off, I SO luv your new fic! Forge is awesome! Sorry I haven't reviewed yet but I promise I will get around to it. Talk to ya later. Lo.

To DreamerLady: Oh my musey-musey-muse. Thank you so much for helping me and for being the luvable, infuriating, goof-off person that you are. Glad you like the pics, I'll email you more soon. Later. Red Lo.

To Strawpig: Didn't quite understand that, pig. Thanks anyway.


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